Recovering the Monstrous in Revelation (Horror and Scripture) 9781978703032, 9781978703049, 1978703031

Citation preview

Recovering the Monstrous in Revelation

Horror and Scripture Series editors: Brandon R. Grafius, Ecumenical Theological Seminary, and Kelly J. Murphy, Central Michigan University Horror and Scripture publishes monographs and edited volumes examining biblical and theological themes and texts in the light of contemporary horror theory and monster theory, along with theory of “terror management,” trauma, and moral injury. The series also examines the reception and remixing of biblical themes in subsequent cultural, literary, and cinematic genres characteristic of horror.

Recent Titles: Recovering the Monstrous in Revelation by Heather Macumber Nightmares with the Bible: The Good Book and Cinematic Demons by Steve A. Wiggins Reading the Bible with Horror by Brandon R. Grafius

Recovering the Monstrous in Revelation Heather Macumber

LEXINGTON BOOKS/FORTRESS ACADEMIC

Lanham • Boulder • New York • London

Published by Lexington Books/Fortress Academic Lexington Books is an imprint of The Rowman & Littlefield Publishing Group, Inc. 4501 Forbes Boulevard, Suite 200, Lanham, Maryland 20706 www​.rowman​.com 6 Tinworth Street, London SE11 5AL, United Kingdom Copyright © 2021 by The Rowman & Littlefield Publishing Group, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote passages in a review. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Information Available Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Macumber, Heather, 1979– author. Title: Recovering the monstrous in Revelation / Heather Macumber. Description: Lanham : Lexington Books/Fortress Academic, [2021] | Series: Horror and scripture | Includes bibliographical references and indexes. | Summary: “Strange hybrid creatures populate the pages of the book of Revelation but only some are called monsters. Heather Macumber challenges traditional binary descriptors of good and evil to argue that all cosmic beings are monstrous, whether they originate in heaven or the abyss”—Provided by publisher. Identifiers: LCCN 2021027636 (print) | LCCN 2021027637 (ebook) | ISBN 9781978703032 (cloth) | ISBN 9781978703049 (epub) Subjects: LCSH: Bible. Revelation—Criticism, interpretation, etc. | Monsters in the Bible. | Good and evil—Biblical teaching. Classification: LCC BS2825.6.M65 M33 2021 (print) | LCC BS2825.6.M65 (ebook) | DDC 228/.068—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021027636 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021027637 ∞ ™ The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of American National Standard for Information Sciences—Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992.

Contents

Introduction1 1 Recognizing the Monstrous

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2 Monsters in the Community

25

3 Hidden in Plain Sight: Monstrous Deities

45

4 Uncovering a Divine Army

75

5 A Familiar Tale: The Great Red Dragon

101

6 Beastly Companions

123

7 Woman Babylon: An Abjected Creature

143

Conclusion: Monsters Matter

171

Bibliography175 General Index

191

Index of Ancient Sources

197

About the Author

205

v

Introduction

So spake the Son, and into terror changed His count’nance too severe to be beheld And full of wrath bent on his enemies.1 John Milton, Paradise Lost, VI

FINDING MONSTERS IN UNEXPECTED PLACES Monster stories fascinate as they flirt with the boundaries of what it means to be human. Though monsters are typically understood as evil incarnate, storytellers reveal the uncanny similarities between them and us. Whether it is the creature from Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein or the tormented soul from The Strange Case of Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde, the boundaries are often fuzzy and indecipherable. The desire to establish or maintain binaries of good versus evil breaks down with the appearance of the monster. Is there really a difference between Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde—or are they one and the same? These questions find resonance in religious or sacred texts where divine characters appear regardless if one categorizes them as good or evil. Indeed, the most uncanny and disorienting moments come when the predetermined “good” characters fill one with as much horror as the “evil” figures. Though one might attempt to justify this as “holy terror”—it is nonetheless unexpected and destabilizing. As the above quote shows, Milton’s Son of God breaks the expected mold of the gentle shepherd and carpenter to become a terrifying sight full of wrath and the threat of judgment in Paradise Lost. It is not simply the actions of this avenging warrior-Christ that are terrifying, but rather his appearance itself induces fear and a reaction of horror. In a book focused on the fall of Satan and his host, the greatest sense of unease and threat originates not in 1

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Pandaemonium but from the heavens. Monsters are not relegated to the abyss; they arise anywhere one finds boundaries and borders that can be crossed. The book of Revelation, also known as John’s Apocalypse, poses a similar conundrum when seeking to identify the monstrous characters. It is a book that travels across spatial boundaries from the underworld to the heavens and then to the cosmic unraveling of the world and the subsequent establishment of the New Jerusalem. One finds a wide company of cosmic creatures including both the well-known Lamb2 and the Dragon to the more obscure hybrid locusts and horses. In popular culture, the lines between the divine and the monstrous in this apocalyptic tale are clear-cut. The evil and demonic great red Dragon and its beastly companions are set up in opposition to the heavenly divine beings that surround the enthroned God and Lamb. A cosmic contest emerges on the pages of the Apocalypse memorialized for generations as a fight between good and evil. Yet, there are numerous moments when the denizens of heaven fill one with a sense of unease and dread. The most violent acts perpetuated in John’s Apocalypse come not from the Dragon but are issued from the throne room in heaven. Though one’s first inclination is to associate the Dragon with evil and God and the Lamb with good, a close reading calls this binary into question. The monstrous and the divine do not appear so very different when one evaluates them without a predetermined bias regarding their natures. This study approaches the monsters of Revelation through the lens of monster theory by analyzing John’s creation and use of hybrid and liminal beings. It differs from other investigations of Revelation as it evaluates all references to hybridity and liminality as monstrous without privileging established or traditional categories of good versus evil. Thus, the hybrid nature of the Lamb in Rev. 5–6 is considered just as monstrous as that of the beast rising from the sea in Rev. 13. Unless explicitly identified by the text, I avoid the terms evil and demonic as automatic descriptors when analyzing monstrous forms. In addition to monster theory, I will also be reading Revelation through a postcolonial lens. These two disciplines are natural partners as they both take seriously the issue of the other and how cultures relate to them. Monsters are the prototypical other as they embody both physically and ontologically what society considers terrifying and abnormal. Postcolonial theory also focuses on the insider/outsider dynamics produced by the experience of imperial domination. John’s Apocalypse is a study of authority with shifting views of who is marginalized and who has power.3 John’s Apocalypse Fascination with the monsters of John’s Apocalypse is apparent throughout history whether in medieval illustrated apocalypses to the modern

Introduction

3

phenomenon of the Left Behind series. The symbols and visions of this book draw the reader in while simultaneously refusing to give up all its secrets. Hence, the term apocalypse derived from the Greek (apokalypsis) in Rev. 1:1, defined as an unveiling or a revelation, is a fitting title. Though it is often classified as apocalyptic, the book self-identifies as both an apocalypse and a prophecy (Rev. 1:1, 3). Like the monsters it describes, the book is also a hybrid being, one caught between typical and expected literary genres.4 The presence of strict boundaries between genres potentially allows readers more certainty when approaching a given literary text.5 One reads narrative differently than prophecy due to the conventions established by comparing a wide assortment of books. However, John’s Apocalypse cannot be firmly established as any known genre thus lending confusion to how it should be read. Gregory Linton notes that readers either “redefine the genre so that the Apocalypse fits into it more neatly, or they gloss over the book’s differences from other works of that genre.”6 Revelation is challenging as it oscillates between forms and plays with temporal expectations of the reader. The Author It is difficult to distinguish between the author of the text and the character of John within the narrative. Concerning the author, known traditionally as John of Patmos, identifications range from an apostle to a pseudonymous author to an itinerant early Christian prophet among others.7 Greg Carey argues that the figure of John is a construction that serves to advance the rhetoric of the text underlining the elusiveness of attempts to find a historical figure.8 Moreover, John’s frequently assumed identity as a Christian (or Jewish Christian) prophet is not a foregone conclusion. Rather than read Revelation as a Christian text, scholars are increasingly positing it within a Jewish matrix.9 Sara Emanuel understands Revelation as a Jewish book characterized by a “reliance on halakhic ideals, attachment to Jewish scripture, and a Christ-centered worldview.”10 John’s insistence on boundary making especially as it relates to life under the empire is just as indicative of intracommunity divisions. Judaism itself was not a monolithic entity but evidenced many different permutations spread throughout the Roman Empire. Each community generated a variety of reactions and mechanisms to living as colonial subjects. It is not surprising to find such diversity within Revelation as indicated by John’s conflict with other local leaders. In this book, I avoid the use of Christian language for John and the assemblies adopting instead a postcolonial lens that reads John and his opponents as colonial subjects. Although John’s rhetoric sets up for the reader a binary of good versus evil, a choice between the throne of God and the empire, closer inspection reveals the porous nature between these communities.

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Introduction

MONSTROUS BORDERS: HYBRIDITY & LIMINALITY Mapping the monstrous is complicated. There are a multitude of difficulties involved in delineating a monster not least is the imprecise definition of the term itself. Modern understandings of the monster as evil and grotesque only serve to confuse an already challenging task. The analysis of monsters has increased in the last few years with studies ranging from literature, psychology, film studies, philosophy, and religion among others. Despite these very different disciplines, the figure of the monster serves as an important symbol for evaluating cultures, societies, and social movements. These figures of difference or otherness stand on the margins of society as emblems of collective fears, anxieties, and desires. Their very presence throughout different civilizations, eras, and religions make them important touchstones in reading a culture through the monsters they produce.11 In recent years, monster theory and the related horror philosophy have emerged as pivotal methodologies of understanding the role of the monster and the monstrous.12 Monsters are the other or as one scholar has said “difference made flesh.”13 They challenge normative categories not only in their appearance but their behaviors as they threaten the boundaries established by society. This is a book about monsters, but it is also an exploration of the boundaries both ontological and spatial that divide communities. A primary focus of this present volume is on those monstrous beings that are both hybrid and liminal in nature. When speaking of hybridity, I refer to creatures that are composite in their physical forms often mixing different species. Hybridity is only one characteristic of monsters, but it is prevalent throughout history and various cultures.14 In addition to hybridity, monsters are often depicted as dangerous, magnified in size, and possessing multiple limbs or heads. Noel Carroll refers to these types of monstrous bodies as “fantastic biologies” that in effect break all known categories governing the natural world.15 Contrary to some interpreters of John’s Apocalypse, I do not view hybridity as a symbol for that which is evil or disgusting. Instead, divine creatures of all kinds show evidence of composite and fantastical bodies. A second emphasis of this study is that of liminality and the ways that monsters straddle borders and challenge binaries. Liminality is related to hybridity in that both are forms of category violations. Monsters are liminal beings as they cannot be reduced to one category, challenging one’s ability to identify them. Moreover, they live at the edges of the world, locales that are poised between the center/periphery or the known/unfamiliar. Above all, monsters are the other that point toward the sublime and fantastical, evoking terror and fascination simultaneously. These themes of hybridity and liminality are not only applied to the actual monsters themselves but find resonance in the communities that John addresses as he seeks to draw borders against the other.

Introduction

5

Boundaries created by culture are symbolic and highly charged with meaning. They draw a line between who is inside the community and who is on the outside or even on the margins. These borders can be geographical as in the temple of ancient Israel that partitioned off the divine presence in increasing degrees of holiness and separation. In addition, these demarcations are also cultural and religious as a society’s norms dictate behavior considered appropriate and desirable versus those deemed deviant and abhorrent. In the case of Revelation, the highly contested issue of eating meat sacrificed to idols becomes one of several litmus tests for determining who is part of the community according to John and who should be ostracized from it (Rev. 2:12–28).16 Beyond the inner dynamics of the Asia Minor communities, there are larger borders and social identities at work. John and the assemblies of Asia Minor are all part of the Roman Empire and they each navigate that relationship in their own fashion through the construction of identities and boundaries. John is the outsider who casts himself as an insider with privileged divine revelation that challenges Jezebel, a leader in the Thyatiran assembly who advocates for greater accommodation with the surrounding culture (Rev. 2:18–29). Rather than seeing Rome as the center of the world, he seeks to reorient the communities’ worldview and reassure them that God’s throne is the center of the cosmos.17 His revelation to the Asia Minor assemblies unveils the hidden realities of the cosmic world that they participate in already with or without their knowledge. However, John’s attempts to recast the assemblies’ understanding of the world with apocalyptic language only reveal his own dependence upon the empire that he spurns. Though he condemns any accommodation to Rome, his choice of language and symbols expose his own hybrid nature as part of the imperial system.18 In addition to the geo-political boundaries, John draws attention to the cosmic realms at play just beyond the reach of the ordinary world. It is customary to speak of apocalyptic literature as creating an alternative universe but Leonard Thompson’s description that it “extends” is more apt.19 Similar to other apocalyptic writers, John uncovers the many different cosmic domains that intersect with the earthly one. He follows the common tripartite universe composed of heaven, earth, and the underworld. The borders between these realms are neither fixed nor solid, though they are only revealed to a privileged few.20 Thompson notes that these boundaries are not only designed to prohibit access but also serve as pivotal sites of transformation for those granted admittance to them.21 Just as these worlds are intimately connected, so too are the inhabitants of each domain. Gods, monsters, and other divine creatures populate these worlds and sometimes cross their frontiers. Monsters, both ancient and modern, frequently live at the edges of the known world whether in the ocean, the desert, or the abyss. But what of the heavenly regions? Richard Kearney proposes a connection between cosmic beings:

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Introduction

Strangers, gods, and monsters represent experiences of extremity which bring us to the edge. They subvert our established categories and challenge us to think again. And because they threaten the known with the unknown, they are often set apart in fear and trembling. Exiled to hell or heaven, or simply ostracized from their human community into a land of aliens.22

Gods and monsters are the other and are either feared or worshipped depending on one’s perspective. Attempts to categorize the other are fraught with difficulties and traditionally scholars have resorted to labels such as good/evil or heavenly/demonic. However, the more one digs into John’s symbolic universe, the more one discovers the shared likenesses between those creatures traditionally viewed as good and those seen as evil or demonic. As we shall see in the following pages, scholars argue that these similarities are indicative of John’s use of parody. Nonetheless, the case remains for the uncanny resemblance between divine creatures regardless if they reside in heaven or the abyss. NOTES 1. John Milton, Paradise Lost, ed. John Leonard (London: Penguin, 2003), 146. 2. I have chosen to capitalize the names of prominent characters in the texts especially when they are presented as individuals. 3. The work of Homi Bhabha dealing with hybridity, ambivalence, and mimicry is especially helpful to this discussion. See Homi K. Bhabha, The Location of Culture (London: Routledge, 2004). 4. Gregory Linton, “Reading the Apocalypse as Apocalypse: The Limits of Genre,” in The Reality of Apocalypse: Rhetoric and Politics in the Book of Revelation, ed. David L. Barr (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2006), 9. 5. Biblical texts do not always conform to one specific genre but participate in multiple types. For a discussion of prototype theory, see Carol A. Newsom, “Spying out the Land: A Report from Genology,” in Seeking out the Wisdom of the Ancients: Essays Offered to Honor Michael V. Fox on the Occasion of His Sixty-Fifth Birthday, ed. R. Troxel, K. Friebel, and D. Magary (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2005), 437–50. 6. Linton, “Reading the Apocalypse as Apocalypse: The Limits of Genre,” 9. 7. Craig R. Koester, Revelation: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary, Anchor Yale Bible 38A (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2014), 65–69. 8. Greg Carey, Elusive Apocalypse: Reading Authority in the Revelation to John, Studies in American Biblical Hermeneutics 15 (Macon: Mercer University Press, 1999), 6. 9. John W. Marshall, Parables of War: Reading John’s Jewish Apocalypse, Studies in Christianity and Judaism 10 (Waterloo: Wilfrid Laurier University Press,

Introduction

7

2001); David Frankfurter, “Jews or Not?: Reconstructing the ‘Other’ in Rev 2:9 and 3:9,” Harvard Theological Review 94, no. 4 (October 2001): 403–25; Sarah Emanuel, Humor, Resistance, and Jewish Cultural Persistence in the Book of Revelation: Roasting Rome (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2020), 21–60. 10. Emanuel, Humor, Resistance, and Jewish Cultural Persistence, 33. 11. Jeffrey Jerome Cohen, “Monster Culture (Seven Theses),” in Monster Theory: Reading Culture, ed. Jeffrey Jerome Cohen (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1996), 3. 12. Important studies on monsters include the following: Cohen, “Monster Culture (Seven Theses)”; Timothy K. Beal, Religion and Its Monsters (New York: Routledge, 2002); Noel Carroll, The Philosophy of Horror: Or, Paradoxes of the Heart (New York: Routledge, 2003); Marie Hélène Huet, Monstrous Imagination (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1993); Niall Scott, Monsters and the Monstrous: Myths and Metaphors of Enduring Evil (Amsterdam: Rodopi, 2007); Stephen T. Asma, On Monsters: An Unnatural History of Our Worst Fears (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009); Asa Mittman, ed., The Ashgate Research Companion to Monsters and the Monstrous (Farnham: Ashgate, 2012); David D. Gilmore, Monsters: Evil Beings, Mythical Beasts, and All Manner of Imaginary Terrors (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2012); Brandon R. Grafius, Reading the Bible with Horror, Horror and Scripture (Lanham: Lexington Books/Fortress Academic, 2019). For an overview of biblical scholarship and monster theory, see Brandon R. Grafius, “Text and Terror: Monster Theory and the Hebrew Bible,” Currents in Biblical Research 16, no. 1 (October 2017): 34–49. 13. Cohen, “Monster Culture (Seven Theses),” 7. 14. Emma Aston, Mixanthrôpoi: Animal-Human Hybrid Deities in Greek Religion, Kernos Supplément 25 (Liège: Centre International d’Étude de la Religion Grecque Antique, 2011); Emma Aston, “Part-Animal Gods,” in The Oxford Handbook of Animals in Classical Thought and Life, ed. Gordon Lindsay Campbell (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014), 366–83. 15. Carroll, The Philosophy of Horror, 50. 16. Adela Yarbro Collins, “Vilification and Self-Definition in the Book of Revelation,” Harvard Theological Review 79 (1986): 308–20. 17. Leonard L. Thompson, “Mapping an Apocalyptic World,” in Sacred Places and Profane Spaces: Essays in the Geographics of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, ed. Jamie Scott and Paul Simpson-Housley (New York: Greenwood Press, 1991), 120. 18. Homi Bhabha’s postcolonial constructions of hybridity and ambivalence are central to understanding the dynamics between John, the assemblies, and his opponents (esp. Jezebel) and the Roman Empire (Bhabha, The Location of Culture; Stephen D. Moore, “Mimicry and Monstrosity,” in Untold Tales from the Book of Revelation: Sex and Gender, Empire and Ecology [Atlanta: SBL Press, 2014], 13–37). 19. Thompson, “Mapping an Apocalyptic World,” 120. 20. Kelly Coblentz Bautch notes that the ability to assign space itself is a social construct that reveals a communities’ own identity and perspectives (Kelley Coblentz

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Bautch, “Spatiality and Apocalyptic Literature,” Hebrew Bible and Ancient Israel 5, no. 3 [September 2016]: 273–74). 21. Thompson, “Mapping an Apocalyptic World,” 117. 22. Richard Kearney, Strangers, Gods, and Monsters: Interpreting Otherness (New York: Routledge, 2002), 3.

Chapter 1

Recognizing the Monstrous

Monsters, in fact, are so called as warnings, because they explain something of meaning, or because they make known at once what is to become visible.1 Isidore of Seville

Monsters are generally understood as frightening and evil beings that set out to harm humanity. In the past few years, popular culture has seen a steady wave of vampires, werewolves, and zombies in books, movies, and television shows. A common identifier of monsters is their propensity toward harm and their grotesque appearances.2 The biblical rhetoric of monsters is even more decisive as these creatures have traditionally become code for the demonic and the manifestation of evil. This binary is especially promulgated in Revelation by the identification of the Dragon who not only represents the Roman Empire but also stands as the embodiment of “that ancient serpent, who is the Devil and Satan” (Rev. 20:2; cf. 12:9). And yet, this exclusive classification of the monster with evil obscures an accurate understanding of the nature of the monstrous in John’s Apocalypse. The limitations placed on what is monstrous falsely sets up a divide between gods and monsters imposed upon the text. Ancient understandings of monsters were more nuanced as they were seen as something “out of the ordinary” and even as a “sign or a warning from the deities.”3 Monsters were not simply evil entities but were themselves figures of divinity.4 Even the act of defining the word monster is fraught with difficulty as the Latin term monstrum “sign” is related to both monere meaning “to warn” and monstrare “to demonstrate.”5 In Greek literature, a wide variety of terms are used for the extraordinary or the fantastic bodies of hybrid deities. They are 9

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typically described with the designations teras (something that is unnatural), pelor (unnatural bulk or excess), and therion (wild beasts).6 Biblical texts also employ a variety of terms for cosmic beings, both those deemed benevolent and malevolent, adding to the difficulty in defining a monster. In this chapter, I outline my methodology for recognizing the monstrous forms that permeate the book of Revelation. I begin by exploring how monsters prompt a sense of the uncanny, a feeling of unease as they cross boundaries, compelling a dual response of fear and attraction. The bulk of attention is focused on defining the two main lenses of hybridity and liminality employed for uncovering monsters in unanticipated places. Monsters are often identified by their difference or otherness; however, it is their sameness or similarities that can cause the most disquiet. In studies of Revelation, creatures that provoke disgust through their hybrid forms are generally those that receive the label of monster while other composite creatures are overlooked. The following tools reveal how the monstrous is a fundamental identifier for all cosmic creatures in John’s apocalyptic universe regardless of predetermined labels. THE UNCANNY Though monsters are generally categorized today as evil creatures, that is not their defining feature. Rather they are better understood as uncanny or unheimlich beings. This term denotes something that appears foreign or out of place, resulting in a feeling of unease or unfamiliarity. In his 1906 article, Ernst Jentsch argues for the impossibility of defining the uncanny but suggests focusing on its affective conditions unique to each person.7 Furthermore, the emotions of fear and disgust are identified as prime indicators of horror and experiencing the monstrous. Jentsch observes that one’s unease increases the more one encounters something new, leading to feelings of disorientation or loss of control.8 As H. P. Lovecraft writes, “The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind [sic] is fear, and the oldest and strongest fear is fear of the unknown.”9 Likewise, others have also noted this paradox of monsters, that they are both unknown and strangely familiar. In The Uncanny, Sigmund Freud introduces further nuance to the discussion by challenging Jentsch’s assertion that the uncanny is primarily that which is unfamiliar and thus unsettling. He turns to the German word heimlich typically meaning “homely” but that also is defined as “something removed from the eyes of strangers, hidden, secret.”10 As a result, the definitions of heimlich and unheimlich do not look so different. Freud expands upon this ambiguity and states, “something that was long familiar to the psyche and was estranged from it only through being repressed.”11 He recognizes the incongruity one feels when the familiar becomes threatening and one’s previous sense of

Recognizing the Monstrous

11

stability is shaken. Conversely, it is helpful to understand that monsters not only represent the other but that they are “the outside that has gotten inside.”12 The boundary is breached, and the safety once assumed is now at risk with the appearance of the monster. What was once familiar becomes ominously unsettling and destabilizing. That is, the arrival of the monster brings about a sensation of imbalance when the outside or the unknown threatens the status quo and the familiarity of one’s life or society as a whole.13 This unheimlich feeling arises especially when one considers the monstrous nature of divine or heavenly entities. Familiar metaphors like parent or shepherd cannot contain these figures especially when one considers other less recognized or overlooked attributes. There is a tendency to domesticate heavenly divine figures by sloughing off characteristics that cause discomfort or that push against established boundaries. A classic example, the babyfaced cherubs that adorn paintings, have little resemblance to the hybrid and dangerous cherubim that guard gates and limit access to the divine throne room (Gen. 3:24; 1 Kgs. 8:7; Ezek. 10). Chapter 3 will investigate the monstrous and uncanny aspects of God and the Lamb as an act of recovery. Their traditional standing as “good” entities obscures for many their fundamentally monstrous characteristics shared by otherworldly beings in Revelation. The uncanny similarities between the cosmic creatures in John’s Apocalypse will raise these very questions of the other and the familiar. Though their differences might first be noted, it is in fact their displays of “otherness within sameness”14 that is most unsettling. Similarly, René Girard speaks of the monstrous double and the inherit mimicry between rivals that highlights their similarities in unexpected ways.15 Throughout the book of Revelation, one can see multiple instances where uncanny cosmic doubles emerge provoking unease and often disgust among interpreters. Scholars have long viewed John’s use of parody and mimicry as a device to engender revulsion among his audience.16 Parody is the intentional rhetorical strategy to ridicule or show another’s shortcomings through comparison usually employing exaggeration. A prime example is the beast with the mortal wound which mimics the slain yet living Lamb of Rev. 5. Conversely, Sara Emanuel finds a stronger case for satire that does not simply laugh at Rome but resists the empire.17 However, in doing so one finds that it reinscribes “its recreation of imperial conquest through its violent humor.”18 John is a product of empire regardless of his desire to resist and oppose it, unintentionally mimicking it in his own visions. An additional unintended result is that John’s mimicry of divine forms highlights their uncanny similarities. By juxtaposing cosmic creatures, John reveals the blurry lines separating the monstrous from the divine. In the section below, I outline two major themes found in John’s descriptions of divine beings: their hybrid bodies and liminal natures. Throughout my analysis of the unsettling similarities between cosmic figures,

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I have found the recourse solely to parody as an unsustainable explanation. It is apparent that John deliberately attempts to show the Dragon and the beasts as pale imitations of their heavenly divine counterparts. However, at other times, John’s mimicry stems from the fact that these cosmic figures are not so different from one another. The insistence on parody obscures the similarities between these figures, drawing artificial lines between them and promoting some as “evil” and others as “good.” In this study, all creatures are treated as monstrous that exhibit hybrid and liminal natures regardless if they originate in heaven or the abyss. HYBRIDITY Reactions to hybridity range from disgust to wonder as one contemplates the startling rearrangement and combination of expected forms. This otherness of the monster to escape the categories imposed by society is often expressed through its hybrid appearance.19 From the sphinx to the hydra, these composite monsters are found throughout the ancient world.20 They are extraordinary beings that break normative boundaries between the human and animal due to the “reshuffled familiarity”21 of their bodies. Their outward appearance may contain elements that are familiar, but the combinations are unsettling and disorienting. They point beyond the realm of the possible toward their identity as boundary breakers. Hybridity is a central feature for most of the divine beings encountered in John’s Apocalypse, although some scholars emphasize its unnaturalness only in reference to beings traditionally considered malevolent.22 James L. Resseguie divides cosmic creatures into two categories: apocalyptic versus demonic animals.23 The hybrid bodies of both groups of creatures are acknowledged and yet only those deemed “demonic” receive censure for the unnaturalness of their bodies. The apocalyptic group includes the four living creatures, the eagle, and the Lamb—all beings traditionally considered benevolent despite their hybrid bodies.24 Moreover, this stark dualism is further represented by their habitat as the apocalyptic creatures reside in the world above and the demonic animals are found below.25 The predisposition to view hybridity in negative terms is traced to the following assumptions: (1) hybridity is unnatural, and (2) hybrid identities are impure. As I will demonstrate, this understanding assumes paradigms from Leviticus and its purity laws relating to the natural world that are transposed onto the cosmic domain and its creatures. In contrast, I argue that hybridity is a central feature for divine entities that appear in John’s Apocalypse regardless if they are traditionally viewed positively or negatively either by John or later interpreters. The application of hybridity as evil to only the negative characters in Revelation fails to account for the multiple hybrid beings that make up God’s

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divine army.26 In fact, hybridity points to the otherness of cosmic creatures rather than acting as a moral compass. Hybridity as Unnatural The first assumption regards hybridity as unnatural or chaotic arguing that the combination of disparate forms violates the natural order. Whether these composite beings mix animal/human or divine/human boundaries, they are seen as a threat to the order and maintenance of society. This unnaturalness is typically emphasized by calling attention to their strange and unsettling features. As Resseguie notes, “The ugliness of evil is apparent in its striking perversion of the natural order.”27 The following framework is generally assumed: Order = God, good, natural Chaos = demonic, evil, unnatural This pattern emerges from Hermann Gunkel’s hypothesis that the God of Israel was identified as the defeater of the forces of chaos especially in creation stories.28 Drawing on the Enuma Elish, Gunkel linked Babylonian traditions of the destruction and dividing of the goddess Tiamat with references to těhôm in Gen. 1 and descriptions of the destruction of the monster Rahab in Isa. 51.29 Thus, the God of Israel was identified as bringing order out of chaos both at creation (Gen. 1) and in a variety of other historical contexts.30 In one such example, the Chaoskampf traditions are later historicized by biblical writers to portray God as defeating cosmic dragons that symbolize foreign and oppressive kings like Nebuchadrezzar, the Babylonian monarch who destroyed the Jerusalem temple in 586 BCE.31 In this framework, God is associated with order rather than aligned with forces of chaos or disorientation. Serious implications arise for the study of divine beings that are routinely separated into two opposing camps: good/ beneficial and evil/harmful. However, it assumes too great a divide between creatures rather than recognizing the similarities shared between them.32 The isolation of chaos from traditionally benevolent creatures becomes complicated by examples where chaos is invoked by the God of Israel throughout the Hebrew Bible. The Tower of Babel is a prime example where confusion is introduced by God to deliberately scatter the people, thereby preventing them from reaching the divine (Gen. 11:1–9). Moreover, the flood tradition often viewed as a “re-creation” is the unleashing of chaos upon the world through divine judgment (Gen. 7). Indeed, even the Exile traditions that are associated with God’s restoration of Israel through overcoming monstrous empires have an ominous note. According to the prophets, it is the God of Israel

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who incites foreign powers to bring destruction upon the nation resulting in chaos and disruption (Isa. 7:17–19; Lam. 2). Indeed God, for the author of Lamentations, has become “like an enemy” who destroys Israel in judgment (Lam. 2:5). Similarly, Amy Kalmanosfky in her examination of horror in Jeremiah argues that “God invites, brings and controls the forces of chaos and destruction.”33 Although God’s physical body is not discussed in monstrous terms, Kalmanosfky maintains that imagery portraying Israel’s God as a cannibal (Jer. 4:6–7) and a crusher/breaker of the people (Jer. 19:10–11) points to the divine’s monstrosity.34 The alignment of traditionally benevolent cosmic figures with the monstrous stems not solely from violence but also from their presentation as other, excessive, and fantastic. The association of God with order is longstanding, though in recent years scholars have questioned the Chaoskampf tradition.35 Debra Ballentine notes that the designation of “chaos” for ancient Near Eastern figures like Tiamat, Yam, and Mot implies an evil being when it is more accurate to view them as opposing forces.36 The example of Tiamat illustrates this problem helpfully as she is remembered as the chief antagonist and the personification of chaos.37 Moreover, her monstrosity is only further emphasized by the presence of other terrifying beings that make up her army that include serpents, dragons, hairy hero-men, lion monsters, lion men, and scorpion men (Enuma Elish III, 15–39).38 Tiamat is above all portrayed as the proto-mother and associated with the primordial waters that give birth to other deities and creatures. However, in her opposition to Marduk, her nurturing status as mother is othered as she becomes “a breeding place of monsters.”39 In contrast, the god Marduk is upheld as the hero of the tale who ultimately vanquishes Tiamat and her monstrous hybrid army. He then famously splits her corpse to fashion the world thereby bringing order out of chaos (Enuma Elish IV, 135–139). For Gunkel, this classic story of a hero restoring order by defeating a chaos monster became foundational for seeing similar patterns in the Hebrew Bible. Upon closer inspection, a simple binary of good versus evil or even order versus chaos is not sustainable in this Babylonian tale. While the Enuma Elish casts Tiamat as monster, it also portrays Marduk in similarly monstrous terms and imagery, though these characteristics are frequently overlooked. Timothy K. Beal describes the unsettling appearance of Marduk, “he has limbs beyond comprehension, impossible to understand, too difficult to perceive.”40 Furthermore, Marduk inexplicably possesses four eyes and four ears, and like a dragon fire blazes from his mouth, all features associated with the monstrous (Enuma Elish I, 90–100). Just as Tiamat is accompanied by a dreadful retinue, Marduk’s own allies include a “terrible chariot, the unopposable Storm Demon” that is pulled by horrific venomous creatures (Enuma Elish IV, 45–54). This “hero” that apparently restores order displays just as much hybridity as Tiamat, but from the perspective of the writers his

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monstrosity is normalized. Neither Tiamat nor Marduk is more monstrous than the other—one is not more evil—they are simply on opposite sides of a power struggle. The need to achieve supremacy demands that someone is cast as other and demonized despite their apparent shared similarities.41 This sanitized version of a monster-turned hero has implications for the Bible and how hybrid cosmic beings are labeled and categorized. Hybridity as Impure A secondary assumption regarding hybridity is that it always implies impurity. The mixing of forms contrary to nature is arguably not only unnatural but provokes disgust as it breaks normative boundaries. Thus, traditionally the framework is expanded to include the following: Order = God, good, natural, pure Chaos = demonic, evil, unnatural, impure This conception of the cosmic world is revealed in scholarly expressions of disgust upon encountering hybrid creatures as exemplified in Resseguie’s statement, “Evil is a hybrid—part human and part demonic.”42 Or Craig R. Koester who views the composite nature of the living creatures in Rev. 4–5 as examples of “created order” but other hybrid forms such as the locusts are “a repulsive confusion of elements.”43 Disgust upon encountering the mixing of categories quickly turns to judgment as dangerous hybrid creatures like the locusts are declared demonic or evil without any such clear identification from the text. Thus, according to this view, hybridity means something different depending on how one has classified the moral nature of the divine being. The predisposition to see hybridity as evil stems from a framework of viewing the mixing of disparate elements as unclean especially as articulated in the book of Leviticus. Mary Douglas asserts, “the underlying principle of cleanness in animals is that they shall conform fully to their class. Those species are unclean which are imperfect members of their class, or whose class itself confounds the general scheme of the world.”44 In this paradigm, pollution is a result of the trespassing of barriers resulting in confusion, as holiness is understood as wholeness, perfection, and completeness. Central to this perception is that “Holiness means keeping distinct the categories of creation.”45 Douglas provides the example of four-footed animals that are deemed unclean because they “walk on its paws” (Lev. 11:27) as an example of boundary crossing. This is especially pertinent to this present discussion as Douglas argues that the translation of “paws” is insufficient in stressing the hybrid nature of these animals. The Hebrew term kaph is more often translated as “hand” or the “palm of hand” and Douglas prefers this translation

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as it maintains the animals’ “paws” as “uncannily hand-like.”46 According to this understanding, animals like the mouse or the weasel violate clear distinctions between the animal and human world with their composite bodies. Douglas’ framework is specific to animals and the natural world order. However, her following statement, “Hybrids and other confusions are abominated”47 introduces ambiguity to the discussion. The resulting impurity by crossing boundaries encompasses more than the categorization of the natural world but also operates among human relationships. Thus, there are injunctions not only against breeding between distinct animal species (Lev. 19:19) but also strong prohibitions against bestiality (Lev. 18:23). Familial relationships that cross taboo prohibitions are also seen as impure such as incest (Lev. 18:6–18).48 Douglas’ schema of purity is tied to the natural world and human communities. Nonetheless, her view of holiness stems from an understanding of the divine as complete and it is not clear how hybrid divine beings relate to her purity paradigm.49 Elsewhere in the context of Egyptian hybrid deities, Douglas states, “But to the Israelites all hybrids and most mixtures were abominable.”50 The question that arises is whether this model can be applied to divine creatures or if it is relegated to the natural world? Douglas peripherally addresses this concern, but her response is more ambiguous and does not clearly answer the dilemma. She reiterates that her argument is to be applied toward living beings and not mythic creatures.51 The exceptional hybrid nature of the cherubim is acknowledged but there is no discussion of how this anomaly fits within her paradigm. Douglas does briefly note the mixed reaction monsters engender as “they can be judged very auspicious. Alternatively, they can inspire horror, aversion, disgust.”52 Despite the uncertain nature of the monster, the auspicious qualities of hybrid creatures are typically underappreciated while their abnormalities are highlighted. Douglas’ work is not only influential in biblical studies but also for monster theorists as her methods form the basis for discussing hybrid creatures and their impurity.53 Building on Mary Douglas’ work, Noel Carroll argues that monsters are not only physically threatening but also impure.54 This is a central feature of horror philosophy as articulated by Carroll who states, “Impurity involves a conflict between two or more standing cultural categories.”55 The mixing of classifications violates the rules of nature and thus is considered horrific and impure as the boundaries between species or states of being are blurred. Carroll focuses primarily on the monster as an object to be reviled, as it appears in horror movies and literature in this fashion. However, he like other scholars, also detects a hybrid response of both loathing and attraction to these boundary breakers.56 Central for Carroll is the reaction generated by encountering these hybrid creatures in that they inspire both disgust and fascination.57 His reliance on Douglas’ paradigm, that the breaking

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of boundaries implies impurity, is understandable within his discipline but it is only one side of the story. As noted above, Douglas has also pointed out that monsters can inspire awe rather than disgust, an aspect of monster theory that needs more attention in biblical texts. Composite beings potentially elicit reactions of revulsion, but their hybrid natures also point toward the impossible and divine realm, without revealing whether a cosmic creature is good or evil.58 Designating something as monstrous is not a moral judgment but only an identification of that being’s otherness, danger, and excessive nature. Hybridity is only one descriptor of the monstrous; it is also accompanied by the liminal ability of cosmic beings to move across borders, as explored in the following section.

LIMINALITY The second characteristic that informs this excavation of monstrous entities in John’s Apocalypse is that of liminality. This involves both the physical ability to move between cosmic realms and across interstitial categories. Liminality itself is an ambiguous term and one that is used broadly across many disciplines. In its original application by Arnold van Gennep, it was used to denote the transitional state between rites of passage.59 Later, Victor Turner applied van Gennep’s ideas to people caught in states of being that he labeled “liminal entities.”60 Accordingly, they are best described as “neither here nor there; they are betwixt and between.”61 These transitional moments included more than the individual as the whole society participated through ritual and symbol. For van Gennep and Turner, liminality was a temporary and linear transition from point A to B. More recent discussions of liminality have problematized this view by exploring its breadth and complexity. Sandor Klapcsik understands liminality “as a constant oscillation, crossing back and forth, between social, textual, and cultural positions. I also identify it with the space of continuous transference, an infinite process formed by transgressions across evanescent, porous, evasive boundaries.”62 Newer models of liminality stress the ongoing or never-ending nature that is characteristic in poststructuralist approaches.63 As this book suggests, there is a relationship between hybridity and liminality, as both deal with the confusion of boundaries and the instability between the center and periphery. Whereas hybridity encompasses the mixing of categories, liminality captures the porous nature of boundaries. Both deal with the marginal and peripheral that come in conflict with what a cultural deems as central and normative. The book of Revelation displays liminality in several ways, demonstrating its own negotiation of shifting categories.

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The Danger and Promise of Liminality The liminality of John’s Apocalypse is both liberating and simultaneously disorienting. The focus on the thin line between the cosmic and earthly worlds can be reassuring to an audience looking for an immediate divine response and yet the very permeable nature of those boundaries is frightening. John reveals the crossing of borders not only of angels, but also more threatening agents controlled by God and the Dragon. Laura Feldt employs fantasy theory to explore the use of fantastic elements in religious narratives. Similar to monster theory, she sees monsters and other fantastic elements as warnings and signals of ambiguity. However, she also argues, “I read them as discourses on alterity that act not only as warnings, but also as sites of transformation and reflection.”64 Though Feldt’s focus is the Hebrew Bible, specifically the Exodus narrative, her approach is fruitful as she considers how the fantastic is used “to confuse, disorient and disturb” pointing inevitably to the borders of what she calls “the middle space itself.”65 This nuanced approach to the use of fantasy elements fits well with apocalyptic literature that reveals the hidden cosmic realities of the divine worlds and its occupants as they reflect the concerns of the earthly community. In particular, her focus on the fantastic as a site of transformation and ambiguity is especially helpful when dealing with John’s desire to change and reorient his communities’ viewpoint. The middle space becomes a locus of tension, uncertainty, and potential danger. This is similar to Gloria Anzaldúa’s notion of the borderlands in which “two or more cultures edge each other” resulting in contact that may or may not be welcomed.66 For Anzaldúa, the borderlands are not only a physical place such as the Mexican-Texan border but occur when divergent entities meet, causing differences to be highlighted. Like Feldt, she too perceives the inherit danger found in these marginal locales, “Borders are set up to define the places that are safe and unsafe, to distinguish us from them.”67 Though John sets himself up as anti-empire and anti-Jezebel, his use of imagery and symbols betrays his indebtedness to the empire. He clearly shows the lines between his visions and those of Jezebel, between heaven and the abyss, and the Lamb and the Dragon. However, his boundaries are constantly revealed to be porous as the monstrous is found not only on earth and the abyss but also in heaven through his highly suggestive descriptions of hybrid and liminal creatures. Liminality resonates strongly with postcolonial theory as articulated by Homi Bhabha. Unlike van Gennep or Turner, liminality for Bhabha is a continuous state as the boundaries between the colonized and the colonizer are blurred.68 Bhabha stresses that the colonizing power is never unaffected by those it colonizes but creates its own in-between space.69 This contested space will become pivotal in the Apocalypse as John negotiates boundaries among the earthly assemblies but also in the cosmic realm.

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CONCLUSION: MONSTROUS BORDERS In John’s visions, the boundaries designed to separate the faithful from the threat of assimilation are emphasized. As much as hybridity and liminality apply to the descriptions of cosmic monsters, they are also fitting descriptions for the writer of this fantastic tale. Monstrous forms capture the notice of the reader, but a power struggle is at play in the pages of the Apocalypse. The reader is set up to identify with John’s perspective and to see the world through his eyes. John uses his authority to map out the cosmos for the assemblies, drawing their attention away from Rome and focusing on the divine throne room (Rev. 4–5). His construction of space reveals not only John’s worldview but casts other leaders like Jezebel and all who align with Rome as other. The visions continually highlight John’s close connection to the Lamb and the heavenly realm, while simultaneously aligning his opponent Jezebel of Thyatira (Rev. 2:18–29) with cosmic monsters like the beasts (Rev. 13) and Woman Babylon (Rev. 17–18). Even as John unequivocally rejects the Roman Empire, his most central symbol of the divine throne reuses and appropriates Roman imperial imagery and ceremonies.70 He vilifies Jezebel and her followers for their assimilation to Rome, without realizing that he too is an ambivalent figure, caught between two cultures. In the next chapter, this dynamic is further explored as John’s attempts to ostracize his opponents only serve to reinforce his own affinity with the monstrous.

NOTES 1. Isidore of Seville, Etymologies 11.3.3 as quoted in Lisa Verner, The Epistemology of the Monstrous in the Middle Ages (New York: Routledge, 2005), 3. 2. Noel Carroll, The Philosophy of Horror: Or, Paradoxes of the Heart (New York: Routledge, 2003), 27–29. 3. Émile Benveniste, Le Vocabulaire des institutions indo-européennes, vol. 2: pouvoir, droit, religions (Paris: Éditions de Minuit, 1969), 255, 257. 4. Emma Aston, “Part-Animal Gods,” in The Oxford Handbook of Animals in Classical Thought and Life, ed. Gordon Lindsay Campbell (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014), 366–83; Jeremy McInerney, “Fish or Man, Babylonian or Greek? Oannes between Cultures,” in Interaction between Animals and Humans in Graeco-Roman Antiquity, ed. Thorsten Fogen and Edmund Thomas (Berlin: de Gruyter, 2017), 253–73. 5. Benveniste, Le Vocabulaire des institutions indo-européennes, 2: pouvoir, droit, religions: 255–57. 6. Emma Aston, Mixanthrôpoi: Animal-Human Hybrid Deities in Greek Religion, Kernos Supplément 25 (Liège: Centre International d’Étude de la Religion Grecque Antique, 2011), 33–34.

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7. Ernst Jentsch, “On the Psychology of the Uncanny (1906),” Angelaki 2, no.1 (1997): 8. 8. Jentsch, “On the Psychology of the Uncanny (1906),” 8–15. 9. H.P. Lovecraft, Supernatural Horror in Literature (Abergele: Wermod & Wermod, 1927), 1. 10. Sigmund Freud, The Uncanny, trans. David McLintock (London: Penguin, 2003), 133. 11. Freud, The Uncanny, 148. 12. Timothy K. Beal, Religion and Its Monsters (New York: Routledge, 2002), 4. 13. Or as Jentsch states “a lack of orientation” (Jentsch, “On the Psychology of the Uncanny (1906),” 8). 14. Beal, Religion and Its Monsters, 4. 15. René Girard, Violence and the Sacred, trans. Patrick Gregory (London: Bloomsbury, 2013), 180–81. 16. James L. Resseguie, Revelation Unsealed: A Narrative Critical Approach to John’s Apocalypse, Biblical Interpretation Series 32 (Leiden: Brill, 1998), 103–5; Joe E. Lunceford, Parody and Counterimaging in the Apocalypse (Eugene: Wipf and Stock, 2009); Harry O. Maier, Apocalypse Recalled: The Book of Revelation After Christendom (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2002), 164–97; Sophie Susan Laws, In the Light of the Lamb: Imagery, Parody, and Theology in the Apocalypse of John (Eugene: Wipf and Stock, 2014). 17. Sarah Emanuel, Humor, Resistance, and Jewish Cultural Persistence in the Book of Revelation: Roasting Rome (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2020), 191–200. 18. Emanuel, Humor, Resistance, and Jewish Cultural Persistence in the Book of Revelation: Roasting Rome, 200. 19. Jeffrey Jerome Cohen, “Monster Culture (Seven Theses),” in Monster Theory: Reading Culture, ed. Jeffrey Jerome Cohen (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1996), 6. 20. Aston, Mixanthrôpoi. 21. Geoffrey Galt Harpham, On the Grotesque: Strategies of Contradiction in Art and Literature (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1982), 5. 22. This is prominent in the work of the following scholars: Resseguie, Revelation Unsealed; Craig R. Koester, Revelation: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary, Anchor Yale Bible 38A (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2014); Daniel L. Smith-Christopher, “A Postcolonial Reading of Apocalyptic Literature,” in The Oxford Handbook of Apocalyptic Literature, ed. John J. Collins (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014), 180–98. 23. Resseguie, Revelation Unsealed, 103–5. Resseguie’s categories are drawn from Northrop Frye’s work (Northrop Frye, The Great Code: The Bible and Literature (University of Toronto Press, 2006), 159–89. 24. Resseguie, Revelation Unsealed, 103. The eagle is not explicitly portrayed as a hybrid creature (Rev. 8:13); however, it has the ability to speak placing it firmly in the realm of the fantastic. 25. Resseguie, 103.

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26. This is similar to Debra Scoggins Ballentine’s point that the term chaos should be avoided as it is often used as a substitute for “cosmic evil” when it simply implies an opposing force (Debra Scoggins Ballentine, The Conflict Myth and the Biblical Tradition [New York, NY: Oxford University Press, 2015], 186). 27. Resseguie, Revelation Unsealed, 117. 28. Hermann Gunkel, Creation and Chaos in the Primeval Era and the Eschaton: A Religio-Historical Study of Genesis 1 and Revelation 12, trans. K. William Whitney Jr., The Biblical Resource Series (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2006), 21–77. 29. Gunkel, Creation and Chaos in the Primeval Era and the Eschaton, 22. 30. John Day, God’s Conflict with the Dragon and the Sea: Echoes of a Canaanite Myth in the Old Testament, University of Cambridge Oriental Publications 35 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985). 31. C. A. Strine and Carly L. Crouch, “YHWH’s Battle against Chaos in Ezekiel: The Transformation of Judahite Mythology for a New Situation,” Journal of Biblical Literature 132, no. 4 (2013): 883–903. 32. René Girard’s monstrous double is a helpful correction as he notes, “A fundamental principle, often overlooked, is that the double and the monster are one and the same being” (Girard, Violence and the Sacred, 180). 33. Amy Kalmanofsky, Terror All Around: Horror, Monsters, and Theology in the Book of Jeremiah, The Library of Hebrew Bible/Old Testament Studies 390 (New York: T&T Clark, 2008), 54. 34. Kalmanofsky, Terror All Around, 51–67. 35. Richard Henry Beal and Jo Ann Scurlock, eds, Creation and Chaos: A Reconsideration of Hermann Gunkel’s Chaoskampf Hypothesis (Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, 2013); Ballentine, The Conflict Myth and the Biblical Tradition. 36. Ballentine, The Conflict Myth and the Biblical Tradition, 186–87. 37. Gregory Mobley, The Return of the Chaos Monsters: And Other Backstories of the Bible (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2012), 18. 38. All translations of the Enuma Elish are from Benjamin R. Foster, “Epic of Creation,” in Context of Scripture: Canonical Compositions from the Biblical World, ed. William W. Hallo, vol. 1 (Leiden: Brill, 1997), 390–402. 39. F. A. M. Wiggermann, Mesopotamian Protective Spirits: The Ritual Texts, Cuneiform Monographs 6 (Groningen: STYX & PP Publications, 1992), 163. Diane Katz argues that the monstrification of Tiamat was a deliberate choice by the authors to promote the supremacy of Marduk (Diane Katz, “Reconstructing Babylon: Recycling Mythological Traditions Towards a New Theology,” in Babylon: Wissenskultur in Orient Und Okzident, ed. Eva Cancik-Kirschbaum, Margarete Ess, and Joachim Marzahn [Berlin: de Gruyter, 2011], 129). 40. Beal, Religion and Its Monsters, 18. 41. The following scholars argue against an identification of Tiamat with the category of evil: Katz, “Reconstructing Babylon,” 128; Karen Sonik, “From Hesiod’s Abyss to Ovid’s rudis indigestaque moles: Chaos and Cosmos in the Babylonian ‘Epic of Creation’,” in Creation and Chaos: A Reconsideration of Hermann Gunkel’s

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Chaoskampf Hypothesis, ed. JoAnn Scurlock and Richard Beal (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2013), 21–45. 42. Resseguie, Revelation Unsealed, 197. 43. Koester, Revelation, 464. See also Daniel L. Smith-Christopher’s discussion of hybrids as opposed to God’s created order (Smith-Christopher, “A Postcolonial Reading of Apocalyptic Literature,” 195). 44. Mary Douglas, Purity and Danger: An Analysis of Concepts of Pollution and Taboo (London: Routledge & K. Paul, 1966), 55. 45. Douglas, Purity and Danger, 53. 46. Douglas, Purity and Danger, 56. 47. Douglas, Purity and Danger, 53. 48. Douglas also notes that human behaviors contrary to order are also considered impure such as stealing, lying, false witness among others (Douglas, Purity and Danger, 53–54). 49. Concerning holiness, Douglas states, “To be holy is to be whole, to be one; holiness is unity, integrity, perfection of the individual and of the kind” (Douglas, Purity and Danger, 54). 50. Mary Douglas, Implicit Meanings: Mary Douglas: Collected Works, Vol. 5 (New York: Routledge, 2002), 257. 51. Douglas, Implicit Meanings, 282n4. 52. Douglas, Implicit Meanings, 257. 53. Beal, Religion and Its Monsters, 183; Carroll, The Philosophy of Horror, 31–35; Safwat Marzouk, Egypt as a Monster in the Book of Ezekiel, Forschungen zum Alten Testament. 2. Reihe 76 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2015), 53–55, 126–27; David D. Gilmore, Monsters: Evil Beings, Mythical Beasts, and All Manner of Imaginary Terrors (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2012), 68. 54. Carroll, The Philosophy of Horror, 43. 55. Carroll, The Philosophy of Horror, 43. 56. Ryan Higgins, “Of Gods and Monsters: Supernatural Beings in the Uncanny Valley,” in Not in the Spaces We Know: The Bible and Science Fiction, ed. Frauke Uhlenbruch, The Journal of Hebrew Scriptures 16 (2016): 69–78. 57. Carroll, The Philosophy of Horror, 191. 58. The labels of good and evil fall short of describing the complexity of divine beings in the ancient world. 59. Arnold van Gennep, The Rites of Passage, trans. Monica B. Vizedom and Gabrielle L. Caffee (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1960). 60. Victor W. Turner, The Ritual Process: Structure and Anti-Structure (New Brunswick: Aldine Transaction, 2007), 95. 61. Turner, The Ritual Process, 95. 62. Sandor Klapcsik, Liminality in Fantastic Fiction: A Poststructuralist Approach (Jefferson, N.C: McFarland & Co, 2012), 3. 63. Henri Lefebvre, The Production of Space (Oxford: Blackwell, 1991); Brian McHale, Constructing Postmodernism (London: Routledge, 1992), 117; Jacques

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Derrida, “Différance,” in The Margins of Philosophy, trans. Alan Bass (London: Prentice Hall, 1982), 1–27. 64. Laura Feldt, The Fantastic in Religious Narrative from Exodus to Elisha, BibleWorld (London: Equinox, 2012), 2. 65. Feldt, The Fantastic in Religious Narrative from Exodus to Elisha, 236. 66. Gloria Anzaldúa, Borderlands/La Frontera (San Francisco: Aunt Lute Books, 1999), 19. 67. Anzaldúa, Borderlands/La Frontera, 25. 68. Homi K. Bhabha, The Location of Culture (London: Routledge, 2004), 37–39. 69. Stephen D. Moore applies Bhabha’s postcolonial theory to Revelation especially focusing on the notions of hybridity, mimicry, and ambivalence. See Stephen D. Moore, “Mimicry and Monstrosity,” in Untold Tales from the Book of Revelation: Sex and Gender, Empire and Ecology (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2014), 13–37. 70. David E. Aune, “The Influence of Roman Imperial Court Ceremonial on the Apocalypse of John,” Biblical Research 28 (1983): 5–26; Moore, “Mimicry and Monstrosity,” 14.

Chapter 2

Monsters in the Community

Begone! I will not hear you. There can be no community between you and me; we are enemies.1 Mary Shelley, Frankenstein

A classic mistake made by many people today is calling Mary Shelley’s monster by the name of Frankenstein. Those who have read her masterpiece know that the monster has no name and in fact Frankenstein is the name of his creator. And yet as one reads the novel, a question emerges as to who is the true monster? Is it the hybrid creature composed of different body parts stitched together and then animated by its maker? Is it Victor Frankenstein the scientist who cannot bear to look upon his creation? Or is it in fact Mary Shelley from whose imagination this horror unfolds?2 The creature is indeed grotesque in his outward appearance; however, his nature at the outset is malleable and perhaps even innocent. He implores his creator, “Remember, that I am thy creature: I ought to be thy Adam; but I am rather the fallen angel, whom thou drivest from joy for no misdeed.”3 Frankenstein by his neglect, disgust, and blindness shapes his creation into the monster whom he calls “Devil,” as he lays upon it his own fears and sins.4 Moreover, he refuses to entertain the notion of community with his creature casting him away with the command “Begone!”5 The vile and scorn heaped upon Frankenstein’s creation is similar to the way monsters are treated today. They, like Frankenstein’s creature, are pushed out into the wilds and refused the fellowship of society. Even more telling is just over 200 years later, it is still common to misunderstand Shelley’s creation, confusing the creator and the monster. In the novel, the frail line between human and monster is revealed. Despite his ambitious and naive hopes of creating new life, Frankenstein quickly 25

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finds himself confronted by the horror of his own “filthy creation.”6 Terms specifying impurity are consistently employed by Shelley to indicate that Frankenstein blurs the boundaries between death and life in his formation of the creature. Frankenstein is self-aware of the disturbing nature of his work: “I collected bones from charnel houses; and disturbed, with profane fingers, the tremendous secrets of the human frame.”7 Reflecting on Frankenstein’s creative acts, Timothy K. Beal asks, “By playing God, does one inadvertently end up playing a monster?”8 The writer of the Apocalypse is also a creator of monstrous images—refashioning them from earlier Jewish models while merging them with contemporary Greco-Roman ones. Nevertheless, like Victor Frankenstein’s abjection of his creation, there is no room in John of Patmos’ world for the prophetess Jezebel, whom he views as a boundary crosser and associates with the monstrous. Scholars and preachers have traditionally adopted John’s view as the normative perspective.9 In recent years, newer types of interpretations of John’s Apocalypse have emerged including rhetorical studies, feminism, and postcolonialism that present more “ambivalent readings.”10 In particular, a postcolonial lens unmasks other marginalized voices that challenge John’s strident calls to separate from the empire. It also questions the degree to which John is unable to divorce himself from the dynamics of the imperial system and how those are imported into his visions. Yet, John’s role is ambiguous and liminal as he is conceived as both victim of empire and complicit in his oppression of Jezebel, a key focus of this volume.11 This chapter will examine the contribution of postcolonial theory and the ways that it complements monster studies. Subsequently, the otherness of John is considered to determine his relationship to the communities he addresses. Finally, I will isolate three strategies John employs as a means of repudiating and denigrating the authority of Jezebel. Linking John with monstrosity is unconventional; however, his role in creating the horrific visions of Revelation and vilifying his opponents is unsettling. Though the reader is traditionally conditioned to read John’s perspective as normative, I read against the grain to demonstrate his marginal identity and surprising affinity with the monstrous. POSTCOLONIAL THEORY Postcolonial theory (or criticism) emerged in the aftermath of the emancipation of colonial countries in the 1960s and onward.12 Theorists working in the discipline assess the imbalance of power between the colonizer and the colonized, noting especially matters of identity formation and cultural interactions.13 As R. S. Sugirtharajah asserts, “essentially postcolonialism identifies the dominant power, exposes it, and engages critically with it.”14 In particular, the work of Homi Bhabha has resonated strongly with biblical

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scholars who focus on the convergence of the colonized and colonizer and the resulting cultural identities that are produced.15 Bhabha’s theories of mimicry, ambivalence, and hybridity problematizes binary readings of cultural identities by positing that both the colonizer and colonized are changed by their contact.16 The work of Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak has not received the same amount of attention, but her understanding of the subaltern’s resistance to empire is a pivotal perspective to consider with regard to Revelation.17 The concept of the subaltern, a marginalized group or figure in a colonial context, is especially applicable to the situation of Jews that worshipped Jesus. Sara Emanuel calls them “the subaltern of the subaltern” as their worship of a humiliated and crucified Christ placed them further on the edges of their communities.18 Both John and Jezebel are marginalized figures; however, their diverging perspectives on empire place them at odds within a subaltern group.19 In this chapter, I focus primarily on reading Jezebel as a subaltern, whose voice and history are obscured by John, as a key part of analyzing his ambivalent legacy toward empire. The Book of Revelation has traditionally been understood as anti-empire in its orientation. It has proven a rich source for liberation scholars to analyze the oppression of empires both past and present.20 However, feminist and postcolonial theorists have increasingly challenged the characterization of Revelation solely as resistant to Rome. This has shaped the work of Robert M. Royalty,21 Christopher A. Frilingos,22 Stephen D. Moore,23 and Shanell T. Smith24 who employ a variety of techniques to analyze Revelation’s complicity with Rome. Despite his rejections of empire and of key leaders like Jezebel, John is just as much embedded in imperial images and rhetoric. Although he calls for a complete renunciation of Rome, he remains caught between his exclusionary rhetoric and his attraction to imperial power. Postcolonialism displays close affinity to monster theory as it too questions binary oppositions and highlights the porous boundaries often represented by the very body of the monster.25 Scholars have begun to investigate the links between the monstrous and a postcolonial reading of biblical texts.26 The following section will analyze both John and Jezebel as hybrid and liminal figures, products of their colonial world, caught in an interreligious power struggle. Links to monster theory are drawn from John—both as a victim of empire and as an oppressor in his treatment of Jezebel. THE “OTHERNESS” OF JOHN In many ways, Revelation has become so familiar to its modern audiences that the extraordinary nature of both the book and its author are overlooked.27 John is in fact not an insider but an outsider, both geographically

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and theologically, to many in the Asia Minor assemblies that he addresses. Historically, the reader has adopted the perspective of John as normative, viewing the world through his eyes. This can lead to a myopic view of the larger communities addressed by John, assuming that they are sympathetic to his visions, rather than comprising a diverse and multivalent audience. Instead, scholars argue increasingly that John represents a minority perspective that clashes with other influential leaders in the Asia Minor assemblies.28 Little is known about John’s opponents who include the Nicolaitans (Rev. 2:6, 15),29 Balaam (Rev. 2:14),30 and Jezebel operating in Thyatira (Rev. 2:20–23).31 The tension in John’s Apocalypse is not primarily John versus the empire, but more particularly John in contention with Jezebel and her followers.32 The following section explores the otherness of John as a marginal figure and a creature of excess, both key features that uncannily align him with his own monstrous creations in Revelation. Marginal Identity The Book of Revelation provides only minimal details regarding the seer that composed these strange and monstrous visions. He simply identifies himself as John, a servant of God (Rev. 1:1; cf. 22:8), and a brother to the communities he addresses (Rev. 1:9). Though he claims fellowship with his audience, his position is that of outsider rather than insider. Adela Yarbro Collins argues that he is a Jewish Christian itinerant prophet, familiar with the seven communities of Rev. 2–3, though it is not clear if one served as a primary home base.33 In contrast, Pamela Thimmes succinctly states, “John is an itinerant outsider in this Asian community, and Jezebel, the resident insider.”34 This perspective sharply contrasts with that of Collins who views them both as itinerant preachers fighting for precedence.35 I agree with Thimmes’ distinction that there is little evidence of John’s intimate familiarity with the communities.36 However, from his perspective as a fellow worshipper of Jesus, he likely sees himself as the legitimate leader rather than an outsider. An added complication is John’s relationship to the apostle Paul, whose authoritative presence in Asia Minor is well attested in the New Testament. Scholars note that Jezebel’s position on eating sacrificial meat is much closer to Paul’s perspective than John’s exclusive stance (cf. 1 Cor. 8:1–11:1; Rom. 14).37 Paul’s more relaxed attitude is likely influenced by his own participation in trade, resulting in a markedly different standpoint on social boundaries.38 David L. Barr compares Paul’s work in Asia Minor as one characterized by building bridges, while John’s focus is to exclude by constructing walls against Gentile communities, fearful of their contaminating influence.39 It is impossible to identify John’s social location definitively but his rhetoric of

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exclusion and firm boundaries marks him as a marginal figure that is attempting to break into these assemblies. John is commonly understood as a Jewish Christian prophet, but that designation presents substantive challenges.40 The assumption that Revelation is a Christian document is in John W. Marshall’s words “a deeply theological position.”41 It is unclear how the seven assemblies from Rev. 2–3 fit into the matrix of both the Jewish and Greco-Roman societies in Asia Minor. Unlike scholars that treat these communities as distinctly Christian subsets of Judaism,42 I will use the term assembly rather than church to capture the nebulous and porous boundaries of these Jewish groups.43 The distinction between a Jew and a Christian did not begin to crystalize until the 2nd–5th century, implying a long process of hybridity and eventual differentiation.44 Thus, to read Revelation as a markedly Christian document is to imply a set of assumptions anachronistic to the author and community. An additional identity marker for John that betrays his otherness from the assemblies, was that of a survivor of the Jewish War who migrated to Asia Minor.45 Beal argues that John’s experience of the Roman Empire is more antagonistic as he “seems to be familiar with the shadow side of the Pax Romana.”46 The colonial relationship that Judea had with Rome was decidedly different from that of Asia Minor. In contrast to the provinces who competed among themselves for imperial favor,47 John’s experience of empire was likely characterized by diaspora and strife.48 Thimmes aptly captures John’s sense of otherness, “resident of no community, a citizen without roots.”49 Although John writes as an insider with privileged knowledge, in multiple ways he is set apart from the communities he addresses. John is not simply removed from his target audience culturally but also geographically as he is located on the periphery of Asia Minor.50 He is a liminal figure, displaced from Jerusalem and the urban centers that he addresses, isolated on Patmos. Lynne St. Clair Darden asserts, “John was in an unhomely (unheimliche) state,” caught between his original home and the empire to which he finds himself.51 This state of unfamiliarity is characteristic of those who experience displacement, caught between the ruins of their homeland and uncertainty waiting for them in the future.52 Like Ezekiel and Daniel, John is portrayed in exile while receiving a visionary experience, linking him to this prophetic tradition.53 Patmos itself is an ambiguous locale as it is only mentioned once in Rev. 1:9 but has developed its own complicated history of interpretation. Ian Boxall questions the literal understanding of Patmos as place especially relating to the intersection of the mythic and real.54 Patmos, while a real physical location, is also an ideal place that connects John’s experience to those of Daniel and Ezekiel who received divine knowledge in foreign lands.55 Thus, Patmos is a transitional locale, it is both

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geographically distant from Jerusalem yet connected to the empire, and at the same time John is an outsider to the communities yet an insider to divine revelation. A Creature of Excess John’s role in the Apocalypse is ambivalent as he expressly identifies with the communities but also claims unique authority over them. In the very first line, John records that he is the recipient of a revelation from God as mediated by Jesus Christ through an angel (Rev. 1:1). Similar to other Second Temple works, multiple claims of authority are expressed throughout the Book of Revelation. At the outset, John reinforces the validity and authenticity of his visions as they derive from a heavenly origin rather than earthly. This is similar to Jubilees that authorizes itself through angelic revelation. As Hindy Najman argues, “For the angel is the messenger who links the heavenly realm of the tablets with the earthly realm of the scribe. Acting on divine instruction, the angel ensures the accuracy of the scribe’s copy, thus transmitting heavenly authority to the product of an otherwise fallible process of human writing.”56 Likewise, John is also instructed to write down what he receives, ensuring its authenticity as divine revelation (Rev. 1:19). In John’s Apocalypse, this reliance on divine authority is also linked to his rhetoric against his opponents. This is most noticeable in the messages to the seven assemblies that are issued not from John but originate from the divine Son of God (Rev. 2:1, 8, 12, 18; 3:1, 7, 14). In multiple ways, John reveals to the communities that his message originates not with him but from the heavenly throne room. Second, John portrays himself as “more” than a normal being who has access to divine visions and mysteries. Greg Carey calls this a “superman point of view” that looks down upon his hearers elevating John’s position in comparison.57 John employs various techniques to highlight his authority to his audience especially in contrast to his opponents. First, he grounds himself in the tradition of older prophetic models like Ezekiel who is also transported “in the spirit” to different locales (Ezek. 3:12, 14; 8:3; 11:24, etc.).58 John does not call himself a prophet but presents his visions as a prophecy (Rev. 1:3).59 Likewise, the message addressed to Thyatira, “you tolerate that woman Jezebel, who calls herself a prophetess” (Rev. 2:20), effectively erodes her prophetic credentials while bolstering John’s claims. Second, John is able to move between the earthly and divine realms, even at one point measuring the temple of God (Rev. 11:1–2). His liminal experience sets him apart from the rest of his community as he is accorded privileges denied to others.60 According to Leonard L. Thompson, “When filled with the spirit, he serves as a bridge between the ordinary world of everyday life and the ‘more’ that

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opens it up.”61 Even though John serves as a mediator to link the two realms, his perspective is the only lens deemed acceptable for his community. Their understanding of the divine world is mitigated through the visions and subsequent arrangement that John provides. While he simultaneously calls himself “your brother” (Rev. 1:9), thereby seeking commonality with the assemblies, his experiences clearly mark him as other who alone has access to the divine realm. 62 Though he is known as John of Patmos, this is a misnomer since we do not actually know the author behind the persona.63 Our perceptions of John’s identity, his relationship to the assemblies, and his status vis-à-vis other leaders shape our reading of the Apocalypse. In the above analysis, I have proposed that John possesses some aspects of the monstrous or the sublime in his presentation as a marginal figure and a creature of excess. One might ask, does the label of monster even apply to John? He has no horns, no forked tail that might immediately alert one to his monstrous nature. And yet like Victor Frankenstein he is a horror-maker, both in his literary creation but also in his interactions with his opponents, especially Jezebel.64 Monsters can also arise within communities, and Dana Oswald observes that a monster is always “an outlier” juxtaposed against those considered normative.65 Overwhelmingly, scholars focus on the otherness of the Dragon and the beasts, but John is just as other and extraordinary. When compared to his opponents and the assemblies, he evidences a hybrid and liminal identity that sets him apart. This becomes even more apparent in the following section that analyzes John’s othering of Jezebel, exposing his own complicity with empire with his use of monstrous language and rhetoric. JOHN’S STRATEGIES John creates an immersive experience that engages the senses of the hearer/ reader who enters into his world of apocalyptic visions and monsters. Scholars have compared Revelation to the ancient form of ekphrasis defined as “the art of using language to make something visible before the eyes of an audience.”66 This highly visionary world is constructed by marking it with definable boundaries that separate those who are faithful from those who choose accommodation with the empire. John repeatedly emphasizes that worship should be centered on the throne of God (Rev. 4) rather than oriented around the festivals and feasts celebrating the emperor and Rome. To create this universe, or this window into the cosmic realm, John employs a variety of approaches strategically aimed to discredit his opponents.67 I will explore the following tactics that John adopts against his rival Jezebel: (1) defining boundaries; (2) silencing the opponent; and (3) hating the monster. These are

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by no means exhaustive but find commonality with monster theory as John interacts both with his community and the opposing leadership symbolized by Jezebel. His strategies are reminiscent of René Girard’s theory of the monstrous double where a rivalry emerges between two opponents resulting in the othering and ostracization of one.68 Defining Boundaries John’s views are frequently adopted by readers of the Apocalypse as they align themselves with him, thereby treating Jezebel as the outlier and guilty party. Stephen D. Moore also notes this tendency in scholarship, especially among commentators who serve not only as interpreters but also as advocates for John’s rhetoric.69 This is most pronounced when dealing with John’s treatment of Jezebel and the Nicolaitans who are cast convincingly as the villains of the Apocalypse. G. B. Caird’s approach is illustrative, “It is John’s role to play Elijah to this woman’s Jezebel.”70 A binary is thus assumed by scholars where John’s perspective has the divine stamp of authority, and any who oppose him are rendered other and unfaithful. Though the larger conflict is between God and empire, John’s rhetoric is targeted toward the assemblies, especially Jezebel, the prophetess and teacher at Thyatira. And yet, in reading against the grain, a different portrait emerges where Jezebel’s position is likely the more accepted one among the assemblies than John’s exclusionary stance designed to disrupt their ordinary lives and relationship with empire. In examining John’s rhetoric, Paul B. Duff argues that John represents a minority perspective but adds that Jezebel and her followers may not have comprised the majority view.71 Instead, he sees the presence of what he labels “the invisible majority” who stand between John and Jezebel—those that John accuses of tolerating the prophetess (Rev. 2:20) and those that have committed “adultery” with her (Rev. 2:22).72 It is this “invisible majority,” to whom John’s message is intended, a group that he hopes to turn away from Jezebel’s influence. Unlike Jezebel and her followers, John refuses to tolerate any accommodation with the surrounding Greco-Roman society. His worldview is absolute as there are only two kingdoms: that of God and Satan. To express this dichotomy between the insiders and outsiders, John uses the fear of contamination as a primary metaphor. He focuses on two main issues: food and sex. Both of these are primary indicators of identity used to maintain boundaries in society.73 Julia Kristeva notes that food loathing is the most elementary form of abjection especially “if it is a border between two distinct entities or territories.”74 John repeatedly presents Jezebel as a “figure of contamination” who poses a threat to the larger community.75 She infects the assembly and in John’s words is guilty of “deceiving my servants to commit sexual immorality and to eat food

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offered to idols” (Rev. 2:20). John’s own sense of authority over the community is reinforced by the possessive use of “my servants,” rhetorically denying Jezebel any right to the assembly. The female body is a central symbol for John regarding the transgressive dangers of ingesting improper food and engaging in illicit sex represented by the outside that has gotten inside. Thus, John focuses on the body of Jezebel as a porous boundary, as her physical form represents the larger community of the assemblies and their entangled connections with the imperial cult.76 As Duff has persuasively argued, John deliberately connects Jezebel with Woman Babylon through “homologous bonds.”77 In particular, John uses the term planaō meaning “to deceive” as descriptive of the work of Jezebel, the beast and Woman Babylon, thereby linking these figures in the minds of the audience.78 In Moore’s words, “Jezebel is actively stuck to the whore, while the whore in turn is actively stuck to the beast, and so on.”79 This equation of Jezebel with Woman Babylon (a symbol of Rome) demonstrates to John’s audience that the other does not only threaten from the outside but is already present in their midst. John’s purpose is rhetorical, to convince his audience to repudiate their allegiance to Jezebel, and by extension to Rome. Moore’s reading relies on affect theory, in particular Sara Ahmed’s observation regarding “how hate works by sticking ‘figures of hate’ together, transforming them into a common threat.”80 Jezebel’s apparent menace is tangible for John as she is located within the community and her ability to “contaminate” others is of paramount concern. It is not enough for John to draw borders against her but as Moore argues she must be expelled and abjected from it.81 John’s equation of Jezebel with the monstrous accords with contemporary social norms especially regarding honor and shame that view the male body as normative and the female as abnormal or deficient. Under this paradigm, a woman who is outside the control of the male is viewed as dangerous to the social cohesion of the larger group.82 Prostitutes were especially vulnerable to this charge as they were considered “symbols of the shameful” in Rome.83 Therefore, it is no surprise that John metaphorically treats Jezebel as a prostitute, deliberately linking her to Woman Babylon, the mother of prostitutes as a way of further dehumanizing and distancing her from the assemblies. Silencing the Opponent Jezebel has no voice in the Apocalypse and her teachings are only presented through John’s perspective.84 The seer’s contemporaries were likely familiar with her teachings, but subsequent readers only see her refracted through John’s rhetoric. Even the naming or renaming of her as Jezebel is a measure of control by John.85 Moreover, the use of a sobriquet is especially effective when the opponent has power and authority.86 The act of renaming is an

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effective way to other an enemy by redefining their identity or as Thimmes argues “he literally brands” his opponents.87 It remains unclear if behind “Jezebel” there lies an actual historic prophetess or if John collectively refers to his opponents in gendered terms. The Book of Revelation does not purport to be a historical document; instead is a theological one that highlights John’s rhetoric and objectives. John’s choice of the name Jezebel is significant as it comes with a history of biblical critique and censure. It is not simply that John has given her a new name, but he has effectively erased her identity by replacing it with a new one. The equivalence of the prophetess of Thyatira with the ancient Queen Jezebel allows John to conjure an archetype of idolatry, abuse of power, and sexual immorality.88 A most effective strategy, as John inverts Jezebel’s insider status at Thyatira by associating her with a foreign queen, an established symbol of threat to covenantal faithfulness, and cooperation with imperial powers. A predominant issue regarding John’s presentation of archetypal female characters, especially Jezebel and Woman Babylon, is the use of sexual imagery to represent religious apostasy. When readers adopt the perspective of John, they join with him in denouncing Jezebel, often glossing over the violence and sexual implications. The following comment from James L. Resseguie is telling, “If Babylon represents ‘the mother of whores’ (17:5), then the whore at Thyatira, Jezebel, is one of her daughters (2:20).”89 This type of interpretation continues to silence and disparage Jezebel, as her title prophet is replaced by “whore,” and her identity is collapsed into that of Woman Babylon. This is not a new strategy but has deep roots in the Hebrew Bible especially the prophets’ use of the marriage (and harlot) metaphor for Israel’s covenant relationship. Cheryl Exum explains the danger of privileging the male position: In describing God’s treatment of his wayward wife, the prophets rely on a rhetorical strategy that encourages the audience to identify and sympathize with a male-identified deity. This is the privileged point of view, the “I” that condemns the “you,” the other whose voice is not represented.90

When scholars privilege or elevate John’s voice, they marginalize Jezebel and any in the assemblies that diverged from John’s narrative, thus losing the other half of the story. Here is a spot where observing the “silences” of the text is instrumental in recovering peripheral voices.91 Thimmes also observes how this creeps into modern translations that reflect a sexualized reading of Jezebel’s actions despite the agreement among scholars that it is metaphorical.92 The term planaō is consistently translated “to lead astray” when applied to the Dragon (Rev. 12:9; 20:3, 8, 10), the beast/false prophet (Rev. 13:14; 19:20), or the nations (Rev. 18:13). However, many modern

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translations reserve the more sexualized reading “to seduce” or “beguile” only for Jezebel.93 As Spivak noted, “If, in the context of colonial production, the subaltern has no history and cannot speak, the subaltern as female is even more deeply in shadow.”94 Both John and Jezebel are colonial subjects, but in John’s hands (and in some scholarship), Jezebel becomes doubly marginalized as subaltern and female. Hating the Monster Beyond denying a voice to Jezebel, John actively incites hatred of her within her own community and singles her out specifically for condemnation. Punishment of the other as represented by the monster is a public event inviting the gaze of the target audience, typically to reinforce social bonds. Safwat Marzouk explains, “As the society seeks to reconstruct its identity and to establish a given norm and an accepted structure, it ‘abjects’ the monsters and it ascribes to it a transgressive body that cannot be integrated into its presupposed borders and boundaries.”95 Describing Jezebel’s body is not the focus for John, but she nonetheless represents a site of contamination as she is viewed as a hybrid entity. Elsewhere I have written of Jezebel as a “mimic woman,” a nod to Homi Bhabha’s term “mimic man,” who stands on the threshold between the colonized and the colonizer.96 This intermediate figure resembles both poles of the colonizing experience but due to its hybridity is never fully accepted by either.97 There is no possibility for compromise between John and Jezebel, as her hybridity threatens the distinct worlds he has created between the throne of God and that of the empire. Moreover, Ahmed observes that hatred brings people together in defense of an outward threat, reinforcing a sense of us versus them.98 Therefore, John must convince his audience that her hybridity is both threatening and loathsome to persuade them to renounce both her and her teachings. According to John, she refused to repent of her fornication and therefore he writes on behalf of the Son of God, “Beware, I am throwing her on a bed, and those who commit adultery with her I am throwing into great distress, unless they repent of her doings; and I will strike her children dead” (Rev. 2:22–23a, NRSV). Marshall’s colloquial translation of Rev. 2:22–23a strips away the “safe” veneer of familiar translations like the NRSV, “Watch, I’ll shove her on a bed, and make her lovers suffer terribly, unless they turn away from what she does. And I’m going to kill her children, dead.”99 There is a finality to this statement that is deeply disturbing, especially as it is placed in the mouth of the Son of God giving it the divine stamp of approval. Unlike Woman Babylon, the prophetess Jezebel is not killed, though she will suffer great distress (Rev. 2:22). However, it is her children that are destroyed, thereby cutting off the spread of contamination. John connects Jezebel and

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Woman Babylon as monstrous mothers (Rev. 2:22; 17:5) and killing her offspring is an effective means of curtailing his opponent’s power.100 Monsters have a habit of resurfacing and John is deliberate in drawing firm lines around his community even evoking violence to root out the threat. Though this violence is metaphorical, it is used rhetorically to reject and isolate fellow members, creating divisions and marking some as undesirable. Jezebel becomes a scapegoat for John, no longer a woman but a symbolic other that must be abjected from the community. CONCLUSION—THE AFTERMATH Is Revelation complicit with empire or resistant to it? Or is it both? John’s apparent target is Rome, though he fights the empire as embodied by Jezebel and others in “his” community. Nietzsche’s famous quote is instructive, “He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster. And when you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you.”101 Does John’s violent rhetoric against Jezebel make him monstrous? Violence alone does not characterize a monster but John’s presentation of himself as other yet familiar to the assembly is evidence of his boundary breaking. Even while John strives to reinforce borders between his audience and Jezebel, his efforts demonstrate his own hybrid and liminal nature. Modern readers find the Apocalypse a difficult book to digest especially as the violent imagery against women escalates throughout the visions.102 John’s reinscription of power makes use of gender stereotypes as it also reinforces boundaries based on hatred for another member of the community. In her discussion of hate crime, Ahmed inquires, “What happens to those bodies that are encountered as objects of hate, as having the characteristic of ‘unlikeness’?”103 The tendency in society is to focus on hate crime from the perspective of those committing the crime rather than the ones affected.104 An unfortunate consequence is that the body of the victim is erased and the aim of the perpetrator is doubly achieved.105 As I have noted throughout the chapter, historically John’s self-designated position as the legitimate and authoritative leader for the assemblies of Asia Minor is accepted without question. While these difficulties are often explained as products of metaphorical language, feminist and postcolonial scholars remain deeply disturbed by its gendered and violent imagery.106 The resurrection of Jezebel’s central position in the Asia Minor communities is an important step in correcting the imbalance of only looking at the text through John’s perspective. Despite John’s effort to align her with the monstrous, I have argued that this is part of John’s rhetoric, his way of gaining authority. In a similar vein, the next chapter challenges conventional labels applied to divine characters,

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especially the arbitrary use of monster, a term typically reserved for predetermined negative figures. Scholars often view the uncanny resemblance of God and Jesus to other monstrous figures as simply parody or mimicry. However, I propose that a deeper connection links these cosmic beings revealing their inherent likeness to each other. The same is true for John, the more he strives to convince the reader of Jezebel’s monstrosity, the more one sees his affinity to his rival in Thyatira.

NOTES 1. Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley and J. Paul Hunter, Frankenstein: The 1818 Text, Contexts, Nineteenth-Century Responses, Modern Criticism (New York: W.W. Norton, 1996), 66. 2. Timothy Beal notes that Mary Shelley called the novel itself monstrous in her 1831 prologue, “hideous progeny go forth and prosper” as quoted in Timothy Beal, The Book of Revelation: A Biography (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2018), 9. 3. Shelley and Hunter, Frankenstein, 66. 4. Shelley and Hunter, Frankenstein, 65. 5. Shelley and Hunter, Frankenstein, 66. 6. Shelley and Hunter, Frankenstein, 32. 7. Shelley and Hunter, Frankenstein, 32. 8. Timothy K. Beal, Religion and Its Monsters (New York: Routledge, 2002), 3. 9. The reception history of the book of the Revelation demonstrates the diversity of readings across cultures and time periods. See Ian Boxall and Richard Tresley, The Book of Revelation and Its Interpreters: Short Studies and an Annotated Bibliography (Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield, 2016); Beal, The Book of Revelation. 10. I have borrowed the term “ambivalent reading” from Greg Carey who describes the rise of such perspectives like feminist, womanist, and postcolonial that delve into the ambiguities and incongruities of the Apocalypse (Greg Carey, “What Counts as ‘Resistance’ in Revelation?,” Perspectives in Religious Studies 45, no. 2 [2018]: 210). 11. Some postcolonial readings also read John as a victim of trauma, see Surekha Nelavala, “‘Babylon the Great Mother of Whores’ (Rev 17:5): A Postcolonial Feminist Perspective,” The Expository Times 121, no. 2 (November 2009): 60–65. I focus mainly on John’s relationship to Jezebel rather than all of the assemblies of Asia Minor. 12. The following theorists are foundational to the emergence of postcolonial criticism Homi K. Bhabha, The Location of Culture (London: Routledge, 2004); Edward W. Said, Orientalism (New York: Vintage Books, 2003); Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak, “Can the Subaltern Speak?,” in Marxism and the Interpretation of Culture, ed. Cary Nelson and Lawrence Grossberg (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1988), 271–313; Frantz Fanon, The Wretched of the Earth (New York: Grove Press, 1968).

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13. For a helpful overview of postcolonialism in relation to biblical studies, see Lynne St. Clair Darden, Scripturalizing Revelation: An African American Postcolonial Reading of Empire, Semeia Studies 80 (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2015), 45–77. 14. R. S. Sugirtharajah, “Postcolonial Biblical Interpretation,” in Voices from the Margin: Interpreting the Bible in the Third World, ed. R. S. Sugirtharajah (Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 2006), 64. 15. The following scholars rely heavily on Homi Bhabha: John W. Marshall, “Gender and Empire: Sexualized Violence in John’s Anti-Imperial Apocalypse,” in A Feminist Companion to the Apocalypse of John, ed. Amy-Jill Levine (London: T&T Clark, 2009), 17–32; Stephen D. Moore, Untold Tales from the Book of Revelation: Sex and Gender, Empire and Ecology, Resources for Biblical Study 79 (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2014); Shanell T. Smith, The Woman Babylon and the Marks of Empire: Reading Revelation with a Postcolonial Womanist Hermeneutics of Ambiveilence (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2014); Darden, Scripturalizing Revelation. 16. Bhabha, The Location of Culture, 121–31, 145–74. 17. The following scholars reference Spivak’s work: Marshall, “Gender and Empire”; Stephen D. Moore, “The Revelation to John,” in A Postcolonial Commentary on the New Testament Writings, ed. Fernando F. Segovia and R. S. Sugirtharajah (London: T&T Clark, 2009); Smith, The Woman Babylon and the Marks of Empire, 148n65, 153. 18. Sarah Emanuel, Humor, Resistance, and Jewish Cultural Persistence in the Book of Revelation: Roasting Rome (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2020), 11. 19. Marshall, “Gender and Empire,” 22. See Spivak, “Can the Subaltern Speak?” 20. Brian K. Blount, Can I Get a Witness?: Reading Revelation through African American Culture (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2005); Pablo Richard, Apocalypse: A People’s Commentary on the Book of Revelation, trans. Phillip Berryman (Eugene: Wipf and Stock, 2009); Allan A. Boesak, Comfort and Protest: The Apocalypse of John from a South African Perspective (Eugene: Wipf and Stock, 2015). 21. Robert M. Royalty, The Streets of Heaven: The Ideology of Wealth in the Apocalypse of John (Macon: Mercer University Press, 1998). 22. Christopher A. Frilingos, Spectacles of Empire: Monsters, Martyrs, and the Book of Revelation, Divinations (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2004). 23. Moore, Untold Tales from the Book of Revelation. 24. Smith, The Woman Babylon and the Marks of Empire. 25. J. Cohen’s work on postcolonialism and hybrid monsters in the Middle Ages is a good example (Jeffrey Jerome Cohen, “Hybrids, Monsters, Borderlands: The Bodies of Gerald of Wales,” in The Postcolonial Middle Ages, ed. Jeffery Jerome Cohen, The New Middle Ages [New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2000], 85–104). 26. Daniel L. Smith-Christopher, “A Postcolonial Reading of Apocalyptic Literature,” in The Oxford Handbook of Apocalyptic Literature, ed. John J. Collins (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014), 180–98. Anathea Portier-Young’s work

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is important in highlighting the connection between empire studies and monster theory (Anathea E. Portier-Young, Apocalypse Against Empire: Theologies of Resistance in Early Judaism [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2014]). Moore has worked extensively on applying theories of hybridity and mimicry (as symbolized by the monsters of Revelation) with postcolonial studies (Stephen D. Moore, “Mimicry and Monstrosity,” in Untold Tales from the Book of Revelation: Sex and Gender, Empire and Ecology [Atlanta: SBL Press, 2014], 13–37). 27. I should qualify that the actual contents of the Book of Revelation may be less than familiar rather than the “reputation” of the book itself or perhaps permutations/mutations that find themselves in culture and churches. For an overview of Revelation’s reception history, see Beal, The Book of Revelation. 28. Leonard L. Thompson, The Book of Revelation: Apocalypse and Empire (New York: Oxford University Press, 1990), 191–97; Paul B. Duff, Who Rides the Beast?: Prophetic Rivalry and the Rhetoric of Crisis in the Churches of the Apocalypse (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 57–59. 29. Craig R. Koester, Revelation: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary, Anchor Yale Bible 38A (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2014), 262–64. 30. Jan W. van Henten, “Balaam in Revelation 2:14,” in The Prestige of the Prophet Balaam in Judaism, Early Christianity and Islam, ed. George H. van Kooten and Jacques van Ruiten (Leiden: Brill, 2008), 247–63. 31. For discussions of Jezebel in Revelation, see the following: Adela Yarbro Collins, “Insiders and Outsiders in the Book of Revelation and Its Social Context,” in To See Ourselves as Others See Us: Christians, Jews, “Others” in Late Antiquity, Scholars Press Studies in the Humanities (Chico: Scholars Press, 1985), 187–218; Marshall, “Gender and Empire”; Pamela Thimmes, “‘Teaching and Beguiling My Servants’: The Letter to Thyatira (Rev. 2.18–29),” in A Feminist Companion to the Apocalypse of John, ed. Amy-Jill Levine (London: T&T Clark, 2009), 69–87; Moore, Untold Tales from the Book of Revelation, 13–37. 32. Duff, Who Rides the Beast?, 51–58. 33. Adela Yarbro Collins, Crisis and Catharsis: The Power of the Apocalypse (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1984), 46. 34. Pamela Thimmes, “Women Reading Women in the Apocalypse: Reading Scenario 1, the Letter to Thyatira (Rev. 2.18-29),” Currents in Biblical Research 2, no. 1 (October 2003): 132. 35. Collins, “Insiders and Outsiders,” 217–18. 36. Thimmes, “‘Teaching and Beguiling My Servants,’” 75. 37. Thompson, The Book of Revelation, 121–24. For a summary of Paul’s position, see Wayne A. Meeks, The First Urban Christians: The Social World of the Apostle Paul (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2003), 97–98. 38. Meeks, The First Urban Christians, 98. 39. David L. Barr, “Jezebel and the Teachings of Balaam: Anti-Pauline Rhetoric in the Apocalypse of John,” Perspectives in Religious Studies 45, no. 2 (2018): 160. 40. For example: Koester, Revelation, 66.

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41. John W. Marshall, Parables of War: Reading John’s Jewish Apocalypse, Studies in Christianity and Judaism 10 (Waterloo: Wilfrid Laurier University Press, 2001), 35. 42. Collins waffles on the social identity of John whether he is Jewish or Jewish Christian (Collins, Crisis and Catharsis, 46). Thompson is more definite in his identification of John as a Christian (Thompson, The Book of Revelation, 130) although admits the divisions between Jewish and Christian communities are not necessarily distinct. 43. Marshall, Parables of War; Maia Kotrosits, Rethinking Early Christian Identity: Affect, Violence, and Belonging (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2015); David Frankfurter, “Jews or Not?: Reconstructing the ‘Other’ in Rev 2:9 and 3:9,” Harvard Theological Review 94, no. 4 (October 2001): 403–25; Emanuel, Humor, Resistance, and Jewish Cultural Persistence, 21–60. 44. Daniel Boyarin, Border Lines: The Partition of Judaeo-Christianity (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2010), xi–xii. 45. Collins, Crisis and Catharsis, 46–50; David E. Aune, Revelation 1-5, Word Biblical Commentary 52A (Dallas: Word, 1997), 1; Marshall, Parables of War, 88–97. 46. Beal, The Book of Revelation, 40. 47. Steven J. Friesen, Imperial Cults and the Apocalypse of John: Reading Revelation in the Ruins (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 25–131; Moore, “The Revelation to John,” 431–41. 48. Moore, “The Revelation to John,” 440. 49. Thimmes, “Women Reading Women in the Apocalypse,” 133. 50. Thompson notes that Patmos is “about 100 km southwest of Ephesus” (Thompson, The Book of Revelation, 23, 34). 51. Darden, Scripturalizing Revelation, 109. 52. Maia Kotrosits captures the haunting character of ruins, “Ruins are tangible objects that produce a sense of numinous absence, something outside of ordinary comprehension, but something felt; seeing and not being able to see are complementary partners in producing a sense of the sublime” (Maia Kotrosits, “Babylon’s Fall: Figuring Diaspora in and through Ruins,” The Bible & Critical Theory 11, no. 2 [2015]: 6). 53. See comparisons with Ezek. 1:1–4 and Dan. 10:2–5 (Ian Boxall, Patmos in the Reception History of the Apocalypse [Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013], 15–16). 54. Boxall, Patmos in the Reception History of the Apocalypse, 20. 55. Boxall links this to Brueggemann’s understanding of “storied place” which associates a location with cultural identity, history, and generational memory (Boxall, Patmos in the Reception History of the Apocalypse, 15). See Walter Brueggemann, The Land: Place as Gift, Promise, and Challenge in Biblical Faith (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1977), 184–85. 56. Hindy Najman, “Interpretation as Primordial Writing: Jubilees and Its Authority Conferring Strategies,” Journal for the Study of Judaism in the Persian, Hellenistic and Roman Period 30, no. 4 (November 1999): 402–3.

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57. Greg Carey, Elusive Apocalypse: Reading Authority in the Revelation to John, Studies in American Biblical Hermeneutics 15 (Macon: Mercer University Press, 1999), 110. 58. David A. DeSilva notes a similar technique in John’s abundant use of the Hebrew Scriptures as a means of gaining credibility (David A. DeSilva, Seeing Things John’s Way: The Rhetoric of the Book of Revelation [Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009], 148). 59. Another continuity with the prophetic tradition occurs when John, like the prophet Ezekiel, is also instructed to eat a scroll (c.f. Ezek. 3:3). This also is linked to legitimizing the prophetic task and appointment as the angel states, “You must prophesy again about many peoples and nations and languages and kings” (Rev 10:11). 60. Meredith J. C. Warren also points to John’s consumption of the scroll in Rev. 10 as another instance that legitimizes the authority of John’s revelation (Meredith J. C. Warren, “Tasting the Little Scroll: A Sensory Analysis of Divine Interaction in Revelation 10.8-10,” Journal for the Study of the New Testament 40, no. 1 [2017]: 102). 61. Thompson, The Book of Revelation, 31. 62. Carey, Elusive Apocalypse, 181. 63. Beal, The Book of Revelation, 42. 64. Beal also notes the monstrosity of John reading it in parallel with Frankenstein. He compares the Book of Revelation to Frankenstein’s monster, “Its [Revelation] maker was less a parent than a reanimator, bidding his monstrous progeny to go forth and prosper” (Beal, The Book of Revelation, 48). 65. Dana Oswald, Monsters, Gender and Sexuality in Medieval English Literature (Woodbridge: Boydell & Brewer, 2010), 2. 66. David E. Aune, Revelation 17-22, Word Biblical Commentary 52C (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 1998), 920–28; Lynn R. Huber, Thinking and Seeing with Women in Revelation, Library of New Testament Studies 475 (London: Bloomsbury T&T Clark, 2013), 15; Robyn J. Whitaker, Ekphrasis, Vision, and Persuasion in the Book of Revelation, Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament 2. Reihe 410 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2015). 67. Prominent rhetorical studies of John’s Apocalypse include: Carey, Elusive Apocalypse; Duff, Who Rides the Beast?; DeSilva, Seeing Things John’s Way. 68. René Girard, Violence and the Sacred, trans. Patrick Gregory (London: Bloomsbury, 2013), 181. 69. Stephen D. Moore, “The Beatific Vision as a Posing Exhibition: Revelation’s Hypermasculine Deity,” Journal for the Study of the New Testament 18, no. 60 (December 1995): 39. See footnote 42 in Moore’s article for specific examples from Boring’s commentary. 70. G. B. Caird, A Commentary on the Revelation of St. John the Divine, Black’s New Testament Commentaries (London: Black, 1966), 45. 71. Duff, Who Rides the Beast?, 59. See also Thompson, The Book of Revelation, 191–95. 72. Duff, Who Rides the Beast?, 59.

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73. For an overview of food imagery that relates to both life and death in the Apocalypse, see Duff, Who Rides the Beast?, 99–100. 74. Julia Kristeva, Powers of Horror: An Essay on Abjection, European Perspectives (New York: Columbia University Press, 1982), 75. 75. Stephen D. Moore, “Retching on Rome: Vomitous Loathing and Visceral Disgust in Affect Theory and the Apocalypse of John,” Biblical Interpretation 22, no. 4–5 (2014): 516. 76. Duff, Who Rides the Beast?, 100. 77. Duff, Who Rides the Beast?, 100. 78. See my discussion of this phenomenon in Heather Macumber, “The Threat of Empire: Monstrous Hybridity in Revelation 13,” Biblical Interpretation 27, no. 1 (2019): 112–14. 79. Moore, “Retching on Rome,” 517. 80. Sara Ahmed, Cultural Politics of Emotion (New York: Routledge, 2004), 15. 81. Moore, “Retching on Rome,” 521. 82. Duff, Who Rides the Beast?, 108–9. 83. Catharine Edwards, “Unspeakable Professions: Public Performance and Prostitution in Ancient Rome,” in Roman Sexualities, ed. Judith P. Hallett and Marilyn B. Skinner (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1997), 66. 84. I disagree with deSilva who states, “John does not silence Jezebel. He makes his best case against her influence. Her voice has been heard before Revelation is read aloud, and she can still rebut after Revelation is read” (DeSilva, Seeing Things John’s Way, 321). 85. Thimmes, “Women Reading Women in the Apocalypse,” 134. 86. Barr, “Jezebel and the Teachings of Balaam,” 155. 87. Thimmes, “‘Teaching and Beguiling My Servants,’” 79. 88. Thimmes, 81. These charges against the historic Queen Jezebel are also imbued with stereotypes and deliberate exaggerations. Though she is remembered as a seductress, there is nothing in the narrative to suggest she was ever sexually promiscuous. 89. James L. Resseguie, Revelation Unsealed: A Narrative Critical Approach to John’s Apocalypse, Biblical Interpretation Series 32 (Leiden: Brill, 1998), 140. 90. J. Cheryl Exum, Plotted, Shot, and Painted: Cultural Representations of Biblical Women, Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series 215 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1996), 114. 91. Spivak, “Can the Subaltern Speak?,” 296. 92. Thimmes, “‘Teaching and Beguiling My Servants,’” 84. 93. Thimmes, “‘Teaching and Beguiling My Servants,’” 84. The following translation are used: “beguiling” (RSV, NRSV), “to seduce” (KJV, NKJV), or “seducing” (ESV). See Thimmes, 95. 94. Spivak, “Can the Subaltern Speak?,” 287. 95. Safwat Marzouk, Egypt as a Monster in the Book of Ezekiel, Forschungen zum Alten Testament. 2. Reihe 76 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2015), 48–49. 96. Macumber, “The Threat of Empire,” 111–12. 97. Bhabha, The Location of Culture, 123.

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98. Ahmed, Cultural Politics of Emotion, 44. 99. Marshall, “Gender and Empire,” 22. 100. One sees a similar strategy when the Dragon attempts to devour the child of the Woman clothed with the sun (Rev. 12:4). 101. Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil (London: Penguin, 2003), 102. 102. Hanna Stenström, “‘They Have Not Defiled Themselves with Women’: Christian Identity According to the Book of Revelation,” in A Feminist Companion to the Apocalypse of John, ed. Amy-Jill Levine (London: T&T Clark, 2009), 53. 103. Ahmed, Cultural Politics of Emotion, 57. 104. Ahmed, Cultural Politics of Emotion, 57. 105. Ahmed, Cultural Politics of Emotion, 57. 106. Tina Pippin, Death and Desire: The Rhetoric of Gender in the Apocalypse of John, 1st ed, Literary Currents in Biblical Interpretation (Louisville: Westminster/ John Knox Press, 1992); Susan Hylen, “Metaphor Matters: Violence and Ethics in Revelation,” The Catholic Biblical Quarterly 73, no. 4 (October 2011): 777–96.

Chapter 3

Hidden in Plain Sight Monstrous Deities

All sacred creatures partake of monstrosity, whether overtly or covertly.1 René Girard, Violence and the Sacred.

It is taken for granted that the monsters that inspire the most terror in the book of Revelation are the Dragon and the beasts. Popular culture memorializes the mark of the beast and the terrible battle of Armageddon, while ignoring the divine origin of the many plagues and judgments enacted by the living creatures and other heavenly beings. The beasts are admittedly terrifying entities that manipulate, attack, and kill throughout the Apocalypse. However, the great majority of the horrors originate in the heavenly throne room rather than the abyss. A succession of judgments continuously rolls out from the heavens causing terror and catastrophe throughout the world. Moreover, angelic beings themselves descend from heaven armed with sickles ready to gather the “vintage” from the earth (Rev. 14:17–20). The image of the winepress, not unfamiliar to biblical texts, is invoked as the vintage of the earth is crushed, resulting in blood as high as a horse’s bridle. Though the Dragon and the beasts are viewed as the main perpetrators in popular imagination, the true culprits are the heavenly beings who repeatedly inflict destruction and chaos upon the world. John very clearly and deliberately orients the reader to the throne room in heaven as the nucleus from which all judgment flows. The primary image or metaphor for God that overlays the book of Revelation is that of the divine warrior who has come to judge, accompanied by a terrible and monstrous army. The heavenly beings, pictured as responsible for the great judgments throughout the Apocalypse, act solely on the command of the divine voice issuing from the throne room and the living creatures. 45

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The image of the divine warrior is a familiar one to readers of the Hebrew Bible.2 God is pictured at the head of a cosmic army who defeats monsters (Isa. 51:9–11; Ps. 74:13–14; 89:10–11) and scatters the enemies of Israel (Judg. 5:4–5, 20). The composition of God’s army is variable but includes the host of heaven (Deut. 33:2–3), nebulous creatures like Plague and Pestilence (Hab. 3), a horde of locusts (Joel 2), as well as multiple destroying angels (Exod. 12:23; Ezek. 9:1–10:7). Patrick D. Miller further notes that the roles of warrior and judge are closely associated in the holy war motif as they entail God’s judgment over the nations.3 An instance of this occurs in Isa. 13:2–5 where God comes to judge Babylon accompanied by heavenly warriors called “weapons of indignation” to destroy the earth. The prophet Isaiah reveals that the Day of the Lord is near (Isa. 13:6) and describes in great detail the horrors that unfold. It not only anticipates the destruction of the earth and sinners (Isa. 13:9) but there are cosmic consequences as the sun, moon and stars will darken in response (Isa. 13:10). In addition, all the heavens and the earth tremble upon experiencing “the wrath of the Lord of Hosts in the day of his fierce anger” (Isa. 13:13).4 Anyone familiar with John’s Apocalypse will hear the echoes of Isa. 13, especially in the bowl judgments (Rev. 16). Like its predecessors, Revelation follows a similar pattern of casting God as the ultimate authority who releases a terrible army upon the world. This appeal to the worthiness of God as ruler is found multiple times in the hymns celebrating the authority of “the one sitting on the throne” (Rev. 4:11; 5:13–14). The real source of terror in John’s Apocalypse is not the beasts, but rather God and Christ. This chapter will explore the monstrous nature of God and the various forms of Christ as presented by John, paying close attention to their hybrid and liminal natures. They are both treated as permutations of the divine warrior who leads a terrifying army in judgment against other cosmic beings and the inhabitants of the earth. Links with monster theory are explored with emphasis placed upon their fantastic bodies and numinous appearances. Moreover, continued attention is paid to the colonial situation of John and the assemblies and the manner in which John adopts Roman imperial images. The following chapter delineates first the difference between gods and monsters before proceeding to analyze John’s presentation of God on the throne and the multiple portraits of Christ as a divine and terrifying warrior. GODS & MONSTERS Today the terms god and monster are not often considered analogous. They are viewed as distinct entities separated not only spatially but ontologically. Gods are typically understood as good beings playing a beneficial role in the

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lives of humans while monsters are evil creatures seeking to harm humanity. As presented earlier, the notion of Israel’s God as the bringer of order against the forces of chaos depicted as monsters is deeply entrenched. Thus, God becomes associated with good while all opponents are now cast on the side of evil. However, this polarization of good versus evil is a later development and not part of the Israelite worldview or the larger ancient world. The relationship of God with evil is difficult as it challenges many modern notions of the goodness of God. This is the very question that Job wrestles with as he holds God directly responsible for his suffering (Job 6:4). Job is unaware of the divine wager between God and the satan (ha-satan) of the opening chapters; nevertheless, he continually challenges God to answer for his unwarranted suffering (Job 7:20; 9:13–21).5 The notion that God is responsible for both the good and the bad experienced by humanity is not unique to Job, as the prophet Isaiah states on God’s behalf, “I form light and create darkness, I make peace/well-being and create evil” (Isa. 45:7). The language of God’s creation of evil or disaster is also found in reference to the Babylonian exile and the destruction of the temple (Jer. 18:11b; 26:3b; 36:3).6 Timothy K. Beal calls this “unsettling theological territory” as these are questions related to theodicy, the issue of God’s justice in the workings of the world.7 A similar sentiment is expressed by Frankenstein’s creature who eerily echoes the complaints of Job as he laments the neglect of his creator.8 Concerning Shelley’s masterpiece, Beal states, “Who is more monstrous, the creatures who must live through this vale of tears, or the creature who put them here?”9 This question influences my reading of Revelation as the present study seeks to peer behind traditional labels and wrestle with the uncomfortable similarities between the “good” and “evil” beings. Classifying God as monster is deeply unsettling for many who cannot fathom a god who has anything in common with the monstrous. However, this speaks more to present tendencies to domesticate God by relying solely on familiar metaphors to describe the divine such as father, shepherd, lover, and friend.10 These safe metaphors eclipse other figurative language for the divine that emphasize the otherness or strangeness of God. Many of these images include aspects of violence (lion, bear) but also unpredictability or danger (thunder, torrents).11 One of these lesser-known metaphors is used by Job when he states, “He [God] has torn me in his wrath, and hated me; he has gnashed his teeth at me; my adversary sharpens his eyes against me” (Job 16:9). Job here understands God as beast, a ravenous wild lion that tears him to pieces. Only a few verses later Job describes God as his enemy, a warrior that cuts him down without mercy (Job 16:12–14). The actions of God here are horrific as Job suffers for no reason (Job 2:3) and he rightfully attributes the evil upon him as divine in origin. Though less familiar to the reader, these dustier metaphors are found throughout the Hebrew Bible as God’s ambivalent nature is highlighted.12

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In the ancient world, the line between a monster and a god is not as firm as one might expect.13 Modern boundaries and demarcations often obscure the complexity of categories for divine beings. David D. Gilmore helpfully remarks: Indeed as we will see, the origins of the word reveal yet another aspect of monsters, which is the paradoxical closeness of the monstrous and the divine. For monsters contain that numinous quality of awe mixed with horror and terror that unites the evil and the sublime in a single symbol: that which is beyond the human, superhuman, the unnameable, the tabooed, the terrible, and the unknown.14

It is easy to overlook the affinity of God with the monstrous as the strangeness and otherness of God are normalized not necessarily in the text but in interpretive traditions. Rudolf Otto’s understanding of holiness embraces this paradox and is often cited in monster theory. He states, “We generally take ‘holy’ as meaning ‘completely good’; it is the absolute moral attribute, denoting the consummation of moral goodness.”15 This is in his words “a mistranslation and unwarranted ‘rationalization’ or ‘moralization’ of the term.”16 Therefore, once the moral and rational understandings are stripped away, what is left of this nebulous term holy? Otto admits to the difficulty of describing that which is holy and instead argues that it can only be understood in relation to humanity’s own feelings of nothingness in the face of the divine.17 This sense of being overwhelmed is what Otto calls the mysterium tremendum—an indefinable feeling that ranges from awe to horror.18 Otto’s sense of the “awefulness” of God is rooted in the notion that humans are created beings, what he labels “creature-consciousness.”19 Beal, relying on Otto’s paradigms, notes that this feeling of awe before the divine that borders on terror is emblematic of Job’s struggles and laments. Otto and Beal both find in the whirlwind speeches of God (Job 38–41), an unveiling of God as “wholly other” whose “answers” to Job only further reveal the gap between the Creator and the creature.20 Job’s metaphorical language of God as beast and hunter, while deeply disorienting, maintains a strong sense of the other that more personal metaphors like father and shepherd diminish. Understanding God as monster breaks down preconceptions of how the divine relates to humanity and other cosmic creatures. It challenges the wellknown metaphors of father or shepherd and instead privileges the mystery of the divine over the familiar and safe. Sally McFague, relying on Ricoeur’s terminology, notes, “Metaphor always has the character of ‘is’ and ‘is not’: an assertion is made but as a likely account rather than a definition.”21 Thus, though one might speak of God as father, this does not completely encompass

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the entirety of the divine being and the ways that the metaphor ultimately fails. The use of more familiar or safer metaphors is an effort to capture or control one’s understanding of God.22 The otherness of God is a destabilizing theology that threatens neat categories built to house notions of divine and human interactions. However, as Beal argues “there are other cases in which the monstrous-chaotic is identified with the divine or the sacred against cosmic order.”23 Though God is commonly portrayed as a vanquisher of chaos monsters, God is also not a stranger to employing chaos. John Dominic Crossan notes the problematic nature of this polarity between chaos and order as attributed to the divine. He argues that divinity is fundamentally other and thus categorically different irrespective of its relation to chaos and order.24 This has significant implications for understanding the relationship between gods and monsters as it breaks down traditional barriers between these categories. Thus, chaos and order are represented in all divine beings, and overwhelmingly what unites them is their otherness. Scholars typically draw firm boundaries between God and the monstrous creatures in John’s Apocalypse despite their similarities. In this chapter, I will consider how John intentionally and at times inadvertently portrays God as monster, paying close attention to the issues of hybridity and liminality. Monster theory in particular focuses on one’s emotional response to the monster. Often this reaction is a hybrid one in which the subject is both attracted and repelled by the monster’s otherness. Ryan Higgins notes, “Gods and monsters engender both fear and fascination not because they are holy, or numinous, or wholly other, but because they are disturbing and compelling combinations of the self and other, the human and the non-human.”25 The predominant image of God in the Apocalypse is “the one sitting on the throne,” but beyond that the divine form remains nebulous and almost incorporeal. Fear dominates the pages of the Apocalypse as the inhabitants of the earth continuously face the wrath of God and Christ (Rev. 6:16–17; 11:18; 14:10–11; 16:1, 19–21). If one takes seriously the emotional response upon encountering a monster, it is God and the divine armies that provoke the most terror throughout the book.26 According to Tina Pippin, Revelation is a “text of terror” that begins with John falling down “in utter fear as though dead.”27 John’s experience of fear models for the reader the correct reaction upon encountering the divine.28 After the sixth seal is opened prompting a cosmic upheaval, the powerful and the helpless all flee to the caves. They cry out to the rocks, “Fall on us and hide us from the face of the one seated on the throne and from the wrath of the Lamb; for the great day of their wrath has come, and who is able to stand?” (Rev. 6:16–17). This is reminiscent of other biblical passages that similarly chronicle humanity’s fear and terror upon experiencing the wrath of God.29 The book of Revelation is not filled with the familiar metaphors of father or shepherd, instead John’s depiction of God

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is comprised of the more unsettling and disturbing variations. The following sections seek to uncover these alignments of the divine with the monstrous that participate both in hybrid and liminal characteristics. GOD AS HYBRID As noted earlier, hybridity is a prime indicator of monsters whose bodies challenge normative boundaries. The term sublime is often invoked to capture the wonder of viewing these superhuman bodies. While John’s Apocalypse is reticent in describing the form of God, it is by no means absent from the visions. The very act of adopting anthropomorphic language for God is to engage in hybridity as God is not human. In contrast, Andreas Wagner argues the following, “God is consistently presented in human form in the Old Testament; he never assumes the form of an animal and certainly not a hybrid form, and he always remains a reliable counterpart for mankind [sic] in his body language.”30 This betrays a view that privileges human forms of God over animal as more advanced (and desired) while denigrating anything hybrid as undesirable and counter-divine. Karel van der Toorn observes that this impetus is also present in older studies of Mesopotamian deities where anthropomorphism “is supposedly the final stage in the developing religious imagination.”31 However, he notes that despite the frequency of anthropomorphic constructions of Mesopotamian deities, theriomorphic (divine in animal form) and chrematomorphic (divine as object) images are also present in conjunction with gods in human form.32 One finds a similar variety of representations of God throughout the Hebrew Bible and also in Revelation. In addition to anthropomorphisms, John also portrays God using inanimate objects such as jewels (Rev. 4:3) and flaming torches (Rev. 4:5). Hybrid constructions of God, whether they are combinations of divine/human, divine/ animal, or divine/object are all partial attempts to communicate the otherness of the divine form. John predominantly describes God in anthropomorphic terms employing familiar images of king, judge, and warrior.33 This closely aligns with ancient Near Eastern conceptions of gods who were also viewed as lords, mistresses and royal figures of cities.34 G. B. Caird is not alone among commentators stating that “John makes no attempt to describe the figure who was sitting on the throne.”35 While it is true that in Rev. 4 the seer is careful in his descriptors for the divine presence, he does implicitly assume a deity with a body, likely a male form.36 Thus, though John’s descriptions are muted, I cannot agree with Caird’s evaluation that John’s portrait of God lacks a human form.37 Even without a solid human body, God is still conceived in anthropomorphic terms as an entity with a will, mind, and even emotions.38 As Esther Hamori

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states, “Turning one’s will over to something without a will is senseless, and worshiping a thing without a mind is idolatry.”39 The very fact that God is portrayed as intervening in the lives of humans (even through judgment) is an anthropomorphic construction as evidenced by the multiple references to the “wrath of God” (Rev. 11:18; 14:10, 19; 15:1, 7; etc.). The presence of emotions is itself indicative of anthropomorphic understandings of deities. John does in fact assume a human body for “the one sitting on the throne” through his visions. God is described as enthroned in heaven, which becomes a dominant image throughout the book of Revelation (Rev. 4:2–3, 9, 10; 5:1, 7, 13; 7:10, 15; 19:4; 20:2; 21:5). This imagery of God’s throne hearkens back to earlier divine council scenes where God is pictured as both judge and warrior.40 In Isaiah, Ezekiel and Daniel, the vision of an enthroned God is rendered in predominantly anthropomorphic terms. Isaiah envisions a colossal God whose feet and robe fill the temple while seraphs attend to him (Isa. 6).41 Additionally, Ezekiel also projects an anthropomorphic understanding of God with the phrase “the likeness as the appearance of a human” (Ezek. 1:26). Finally, in Dan. 7, an explicitly gendered portrayal of God as an older male is found, “the Ancient of Days took his seat, his garment was white as snow, and the hair of his head was like pure wool” (Dan. 7:9). These presentations of God’s body are partial, tantalizing and incomplete but they all presuppose an anthropomorphic conception. Although John is reserved in describing the physical form of God, there are several moments where the hazy image of God presented by John solidifies momentarily. First, the seer does note that God possesses a right hand that holds the scroll (Rev. 5:1, 7). Additionally, twice it is mentioned that God will wipe away every tear (Rev. 7:17; 21:4). Each of these actions whether holding a scroll or wiping away a tear necessitate the use of a hand. And thus, combined with the image of God seated on a throne, one finds that John consistently assumes a God in human terms. The predominant image of God on the throne throughout the Hebrew Bible is that of a figure resembling a human, and in light of John’s heavy reliance and reuse of these traditions throughout the Apocalypse, there is no reason to suppose he deviates from it. Moreover, as with the majority of examples from the Hebrew Bible, the presentation of God’s form is typically incomplete.42 In addition to anthropomorphic metaphors (king, father, judge), John uses inanimate objects (chrematomorphism) in describing God to reveal and conceal the divine form. After John sees the throne, he notes “And the one seated there looked like jasper and cornelian, and around the throne was a rainbow that looked like an emerald” (Rev. 4:3). Commentators are divided on whether these gems designate God’s body43 or the color of light that emanates from the throne.44 Stephen D. Moore interprets the hardness of the jewels as an indication of God’s hypermasculinity, describing the sculpted

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physique of the divine body.45 Conversely, G. R. Beasley-Murray draws attention to the use of colors that might serve to conceal the divine glory.46 G. K. Beale follows a similar understanding, “The stones intensify the light around the throne by reflecting the unapproachable brightness, and hence glory, surrounding God himself.”47 Bright light can illuminate but it can also blind the viewer, thereby concealing the target object. Mesopotamian deities were described as possessing melammu, a divine radiance. This bright light or splendor served to protect the deity from human contamination acting like a shield.48 Whether these jewels were designed as a “means to reveal the divine”49 or if they serve as protection both for the human and divine participant, either way they communicate the otherness and the danger of “the one sitting on the throne.” John’s presentation of an enthroned deity is itself a hybrid literary creation where John merges Jewish traditions with contemporary representations of Roman imperial power. David E. Aune argues that the throne room scene in Rev. 4 reflects not early Christian liturgy but Roman imperial court procedures.50 These include the passive presentation of a ruler who dispenses justice, cosmic imagery of the throne room, the presentation of crowns to a sovereign, the offering of praise or hymns, and titles of divinity.51 According to Aune, these striking parallels indicate a deliberate parody on the part of John in his reuse of the Greco-Roman cult.52 But what happens when parody becomes mimicry rather than mockery?53 Moore points to the ironic (and rather abundant) use of Greco-Roman imagery throughout John’s Apocalypse, which supposedly disdains any accommodation with that culture.54 A hybrid deity is the result or as Moore states, “a fascinating (con)fusion of figures, the Roman emperor coalescing with the Jewish-Christian God.”55 A component of Homi Bhabha’s analysis of colonial hybridity maintains that there is no pure culture but that both the colonizer and the colonized are changed through contact.56 As Bhabha writes, “this partial culture, is the contaminated yet connective tissues between cultures,” demonstrating the reciprocal influence of each one.57 In John’s hands, the God of Revelation becomes even more other as a hybrid Jewish and Roman portrait appears, merging traditions together resulting in “the one sitting on the throne.” A LIMINAL PRESENCE The defining picture of God in John’s Apocalypse is that of an enthroned sovereign acting as the axis mundi in the midst of concentric cosmic circles.58 Unlike the vision of Dan. 7:9 where the thrones are set up before the seer, here in the Apocalypse, John sees an established throne room.59 Beale argues

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that this configuration reinforces God’s centrality and control over the earth as a series of judgments are dispensed from the throne room (Rev. 6:1–8, 16; 8:3–6; 16:17).60 Though this portrait of the divine appears stable and permanent, in key ways John communicates a liminal understanding of God’s presence. First, there are deliberate moves to obscure or hide the figure of God. As noted above, anthropomorphic features are muted though admittedly present. Moreover, the primary designation for God, “the one sitting on the throne,” functions as a “circumlocution of the divine name.”61 The avoidance of naming God adds to the mystery and the ultimate unknowability of the divine form.62 Speaking of the unnameable monster, Maria Beville observes, “It terrifies us with its alien presence, and yet it fascinates us with its mysterious circumvention of epistemological frameworks.”63 This ultimate unknowability of the divine is central to pushing against attempts to control and contain it through labels, metaphors, and images. The otherness of God in the Apocalypse is further highlighted by the presence of lightning, thunder, and unidentified voices (Rev. 4:5; 16:17; 19:5; 21:3) that proceed from the throne. The thunder and lightning is reminiscent of the Sinai theophany that brought terror to the people who refused to approach God’s mountain (Exod. 19:16–25; 20:18–21). It is not clear if these voices should be attributed to God, the cherubim, or other divine beings. Though John is a witness to the throne room, his descriptions reveal his own sense of disorientation in understanding the workings of the heavenly world. Similar to other monstrous beings in John’s Apocalypse, God is described as breaking boundaries and exceeding normative categories. Though a primary way of identifying God is the phrase “the one sitting on the throne,” John also employs other formulas to express the grandeur of the divine that effectively communicates otherness by their incomparability. The Apocalypse is framed with two repetitions of the self-revelation, “I am the Alpha and the Omega” (Rev. 1:8; 21:6), implying the sovereignty of the divine over all things. This is likely derived from a similar formulation in Isa. 44:6, “I am the first and the last, besides me there is no god.”64 As Richard Bauckham observes, “this God is the utterly incomparable One,”65 hence there are no categories to capture the divine. God is likewise described with the following epithet, “Who is and who was and who is to come” (Rev. 1:4, 8; 4:8). At its core, this epithet reveals a God that challenges spatial boundaries, whose essence is not contained within normative temporal limitations. Adela Yarbro Collins argues that John’s presentation of the divine is not static, as he emphasizes that “God is not simply One who is, but One who comes.”66 Furthermore, in the throne room vision, the living creatures reveal how the divine presses the limits of the possible in their song, addressed to the one “who lives for ever and ever” (Rev. 4:9). Though John seeks to direct worship

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to the throne in heaven, a symbol of stability as the center of the universe, his descriptors for God reveal the deeply liminal, category breaking, and excessive characteristics of the divine. Finally, at the very end of the Apocalypse, the image of God as seated on the throne is highlighted again: “And I saw a great white throne and the one who sat upon it, from his presence the earth and the heaven fled, and no place was found for them” (Rev. 20:11). In this vision, the stable center of the universe is undermined as John witnesses the unraveling of creation that flees in terror from the occupant on the throne. As Steven J. Friesen observes, “The transitory realm cannot remain in the presence of the absolute. Temporal space is undone.”67 Similarly, Aune compares this to Greek mythology, in which humanity or creation cannot come into contact with the divine without adverse repercussions.68 This is a vision of judgment, when the dead stand before the throne to hear if their names are found in the Book of Life (Rev. 20:12–15). In this liminal space and time, the throne stands between the dead and the living, assigning some to destruction and others to life. Can one call God a monster? Is “the one sitting on the throne” a hybrid being? Like other monstrous creatures, God breaks all boundaries. Revelation in a similar manner to its predecessor Ezekiel cannot fully describe God and only provides a glimpse of the divine’s physical appearance. God is conceived as other throughout the Apocalypse, a form partially revealed but in numerous ways the hybrid descriptions only serve to further obscure the divine. A particularly destabilizing aspect of John’s description of the divine world is its uncanny resemblance to the Roman imperial court. The cosmic map that John draws for his audience places God at the center of the world, reversing the dominant ideology expressed by the Roman Empire. And yet, the effort to subvert Roman imperial symbols by ascribing them to God potentially creates a deity uncannily similar to the Emperor. Such mimicry of imperial symbols represents an assimilation of the colonial presence onto the community’s concept of the divine worlds and its occupants. This situation is only amplified with John’s presentation of Jesus whose hybrid and liminal presence is deeply unsettling especially in the guise of divine warrior. CONFLICTING IMAGES: JESUS AS MONSTER The figure of Christ throughout Revelation is fluid, ambivalent, and at times conflicted. He is pictured as a human/divine hybrid (Rev. 1:9–20) before morphing into a lion/lamb creature (Rev. 5:6–14) and finally is presented as a Jewish/Roman conquering divine warrior (Rev. 19:11–21). Even in his most familiar guise as a human, there is still something unsettling about his portrayal. René Girard has stated, “All sacred creatures partake of monstrosity,

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whether overtly or covertly.”69 It might come as a surprise to use the label of monster to describe Jesus. However, the resistance to such a designation is rooted in the predominant notion that monsters are evil. As noted previously, the term monster is more accurately defined as a wonder or a sign, an entity that elicits fear, awe, and/or disgust. Moreover, the otherness of Christ is not new to Christianity, as medieval art depicted the body of Jesus as simultaneously extraordinary and monstrous. In his work, The Bestiary of Guillaume le Clerc (1210 CE), the author chose parallel scenes of Jesus and the phoenix as symbols to illustrate the death and resurrection of Christ.70 Though the phoenix is not a hybrid, its marvelous ability to morph from death to life perfectly captures the otherness of Christ’s death and resurrection. The Trinity, a decidedly tricky doctrine to understand visually, was often represented as a three-headed figure in medieval works. Robert Mills observes that not only was the Trinity depicted in this fashion, but a similar treatment of Satan is found in architecture and literary works such as Dante’s Inferno.71 This led archbishops like Antoninus of Florence to state, “Painters . . . are blameworthy (reprehensibiles), when they paint things which are against the faith (contra fidem), when they make an image of the Trinity one person with three heads, which is monstrous in the nature of things.”72 Antoninus recognized these representations of the Trinity as monstrous because they defied the natural order of things and pointed toward the otherness of the divine. They also portrayed a startling similarity between Christ and Satan that was decidedly unnerving. One finds this same tendency in Revelation scholarship to downplay the monstrosity of heavenly beings in spite of the similarities they bear with other cosmic entities. In practical terms, a monster breaks normative boundaries and points toward the limits of the impossible. When this definition is applied to the presentation of Jesus in the book of Revelation, one observes multiple areas where Jesus is decidedly monstrous. In this section, I will consider three images that John uses as symbols for Jesus throughout the Apocalypse. These include the Son of Man of the opening vision (Rev. 1:9–20), the Lion/Lamb hybrid (Rev. 5:6–14), and the Rider called Faithful and True (Rev. 19:11–21). In each of these permutations, hybridity and liminality are both key features that define how John views the construction of the divine body. Monsters are generally recognized as hybrid creatures that combine different parts into one unified being. This is known as a fusion creature whose combinations blur distinctions between states including animal/human, living/dead, and human/machine among others.73 According to Noel Carroll, the distinguishing feature of these monsters is that their fusion of attributes occurs “in unambiguously one, spatio-temporally discrete entity.”74 Frankenstein is the preeminent example of a figure that is literally built of different body parts producing a final hybrid creature. On the other hand, another category of a

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hybrid monster is the fission figure, whose “contradictory elements are, so to speak, distributed over different, though metaphysically related identities.”75 The classic example of this category of monster is the werewolf who is both human and wolf simultaneously. As Carroll notes, their identities are not fused but sequenced.76 John’s portrayal of Jesus reflects both these modes of constructing monstrous biologies, as his body undergoes numerous transformations throughout the visions. The Son of Man (Rev. 1:9–20; 14:14) John’s Apocalypse opens with a vision of a superhuman being that overwhelms the senses. In this inaugural vision, the figure is presented in familiar anthropomorphic language and yet there is something distinctly uncanny about his appearance: And I turned to see the voice which was speaking with me and when I turned I saw seven golden lampstands, and in the midst of the lampstands one like the Son of Man was clothed with a long robe and girded around the chest with a golden sash. Now his head and his hair were white like wool, as white as snow and his eyes were like a flame of fire, and his feet were like burnished bronze, like having been refined in a furnace, and his voice was like the sound of many waters. And in his right hand were seven stars and a sharp double-edged sword was coming out of his mouth and his face was like the sun shining in its might. And when I saw him, I fell at his feet as though dead but he placed his right hand on me, saying, “Do not be afraid. I am the first and the last, and the Living One. I was dead and behold I am living forever and ever. And I have the keys of Death and of Hades.” (Rev. 1:12–18)

John first hears the voice of this divine being before turning to see him standing between the seven golden lampstands. He is described “like the Son of Man” clothed in a long robe with a golden sash across his chest/breasts (Rev. 1:13) and drawing on the imagery from Dan. 7, this figure has similarly white hair like wool (Dan. 7:9). However, at this point the imagery moves away from the familiar to the fantastic, as the being’s eyes are described like fire and feet like burnished bronze (Rev. 1:14–15). The humanness of this figure recedes as its body appears more like metal than flesh.77 Rather than solely relying on Daniel’s description of the Ancient of Days (Dan. 7), John is also merging descriptors from the “man clothed in linen” (Dan. 10:5–6). This angelic figure is also clothed with a robe, a golden belt, eyes like flaming torches, and limbs like burnished bronze.78 In fact, John’s “Son of Man” more closely resembles this divine attendant than the Ancient of Days. Moreover, other scriptural traditions from Ezekiel, Zechariah, and Song of Songs also

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form important echoes and sources for John’s construction of this Son of Man.79 The figure of Rev. 1 is resplendent, a sight that overwhelms John in its brilliance and otherworldliness. The portrayal of an extraordinary human/divine being continues as John describes his voice that is terrifying like the roar of many waters, likely influenced from Ezek. 1:24. And in his right hand he holds seven stars, a sharp double-edged sword emerges from his mouth, and he shines as bright as the sun (Rev. 1:16).80 Each of these images communicates the strangeness of this figure whose body defies normal categories. Scholars are quick to interpret these images, noting that the stars denote sovereignty,81 the sword represents speech,82 and the sun his divinity.83 However, it is important to pause and note the extraordinary and strange ways that John depicts Christ, leaving the audience deeply unsettled. The human Jesus of Nazareth is a far cry from this gleaming creature whose mouth is the focus as a sword emerges from it.84 Though scholars see the sword as emblematic of speech, the common portrayal of the monster’s mouth as threatening echoes here in John’s vision. Efforts to normalize or sanitize this figure fail when considered through the lens of monster theory. Leonard Thompson astutely notes that John’s combination of Old Testament images results in “a creature of awesome, divine proportions.”85 I have argued elsewhere that the audience is intended to take their cue from the emotional reactions of the protagonists in the narrative.86 Though modern readers may skim over John’s reaction, it is important to note the abject terror that John records, “And when I saw him, I fell at his feet as though dead” (Rev. 1:17). Here in Revelation, John is overcome with terror and faints or feels like he will die from fear. The divine figure recognizes his terror and touches him as he both reveals his liminal identity (Rev. 1:17–18) and commissions John to write what he sees (Rev. 1:19–20). Unlike other divine figures that are obviously part animal and human, the fusion characteristics are more limited in John’s presentation of one like a Son of Man. However, as Robyn J. Whitaker observes he is “both human and more than human.”87 The conglomeration of different textual traditions results in a hybrid being that takes on characteristics of priests, angels, God, and messianic figures.88 Additionally, Moore notes the fluidity of categories present, “Densely imbricated in this category-defying figure, then, are animal, angelic, human-female, divine and human-male elements, and in no discernible hierarchical order.”89 Similar to “the one sitting on the throne,” John’s portrait of the Son of Man reinforces the inability of language and image to capture the otherness of this figure that breaks all classifications. The range of categories is significant; however, it is the merging of divine-angelic features that has preoccupied scholarship.90 This figure of the Son of Man defies exact categories as it both shares explicit similarities with God but is described using angelomorphic language. Loren Stuckenbruck argues that

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Jesus is portrayed as superior to the angels but continues to retain angelic features.91 It is likely that John is relying on traditions of an exalted angel similar to what is found in other Second Temple works like the Apocalypse of Abraham.92 John’s portrayal of Christ’s divinity demonstrates his otherness as it continually defies predetermined categories, participating in multiple aspects simultaneously. John not only presents a hybrid vision of the divine figure but one that is liminal, caught between categories of being. After reassuring John, he states, “I am the first and the last, and the Living One. I was dead and behold I am living forever and ever. And I have the keys of Death and of Hades” (Rev. 1:17–18). Though the gesture of touching John’s shoulder might be understood as reassuring, the words of the Son of Man are unnerving and disorienting. They point toward what Otto would call the mysterium tremendum: the experience of religious dread or awe upon encountering the divine. He describes mysterium as “that which is hidden and esoteric, that which is beyond conception or understanding, extraordinary and unfamiliar.”93 The figure of the Son of Man exceeds life itself, having straddled the boundary between the living and the dead. He transcends time, refusing to fit into categories of life and death that define the human condition. These are all ascriptions that attest to the divinity of this figure often drawing directly on language attributed to God in the Hebrew Bible. Moreover, these descriptors reinforce the “creaturehood” of John, a key concept of the tremendum for Otto that perceives “a consciousness of the absolute superiority or supremacy of a power other than myself.”94 John does not record his emotions after hearing the words of the Son of Man, leaving no sense to the reader whether or not his terror is abated. As Colleen M. Conway notes, this might relate to the fact “he [the Son of Man] says this with a two-edged sword issuing from his mouth, perhaps there is good reason to be afraid.”95 Moreover, even the experience of being physically touched by a divine being would be terrifying, a boundary that is not usually breached. Finally, the presentation of the Son of Man in the midst of the seven lampstands (Rev. 1:13) also attests to a mediating role. In contrast to “the one who sits on the throne,” John’s numerous permutations of Christ throughout the Apocalypse cross the boundary between heaven and earth (Rev. 14:1; 19:11– 16). Here in the opening visions, the lampstands are revealed as the seven assemblies (Rev. 1:20) that are addressed in the following two chapters (Rev. 2–3). Conway compares these addresses to the Asia Minor assemblies with Roman imperial edicts that reinforce the authority of the sender and demand the obedience of the recipient.96 Aune views such similarities to imperial figures as a “pale and diabolical imitation of God.”97 Conway disagrees with this statement and argues that it is not imitation but an ascription of GrecoRoman imperial images to the Son of Man.98 As with the portrayal of God on

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the throne in Rev. 4, a merging of Jewish and Greco-Roman traditions creates a hybrid imperial figure that pushes at the boundaries of the communities’ vision of Jesus. The later violent and terrifying portrayals of the Son of Man, Lion/Lamb, and the Rider eerily resemble the Roman Emperor rather than the historic Jesus of Nazareth.99 The Lion/Lamb Hybrid (Rev. 5:6–14) In the throne room vision, John encounters many divine beings including a curious hybrid entity that is described as both lion and lamb. John is initially distraught until he hears from an elder that the Lion is able to open the scroll but surprisingly, he sees a Lamb rather than the aforementioned Lion: Behold, the Lion from the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has conquered, so that he can open the scroll and its seven seals. And I saw in the midst of the throne and the four living creatures and among the elders, a Lamb standing as though slain, having seven horns and seven eyes which are the seven spirits of God sent into all the earth. (Rev. 5:5b–6)

This transition from lion to lamb is interpreted by many scholars as a hermeneutical key to understand the “conquering” of the Lamb as self-sacrifice rather than actual violence.100 Eugene M. Boring captures this sentiment: “wherever the tradition says ‘lion’ read ‘Lamb’.”101 This pronouncement is key for scholars who argue that John’s use of violent metaphors should not be read literally but translated as nonviolent. However, in making this shift from violent to nonviolent, scholars downplay the monstrous and extraordinary presentation of Christ. I propose that a re-examination of both the Lion and the Lamb as monstrous images is necessary to recapture a sense of its extraordinary hybrid and liminal body. The image of Christ as lion has received much less attention than the lamb imagery. However, a few recent investigations have argued that the lion imagery should not be dismissed but taken seriously as a continuing motif in John’s visions.102 There is no actual physical description of the Lion given by John and it is necessary to mine out potential meanings through understanding how the symbol of the lion would function in an ancient context.103 According to Brent Strawn, the image of the lion represents “notions of power, dominance, and threat” that render it an ambivalent and dangerous symbol.104 Lion imagery for God is positive when the deity is cast as protector (Hos. 11:10–11), but the same imagery is also threatening when one is the intended target (Job 10:16; Amos 3:8; Lam. 3:10–11).105 In either case, the recipient of God’s actions is hunted, mauled, or torn to pieces without any hope of escape.106 The outcome is the same but one’s perspective shifts

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depending on the relationship to this beast. As with monsters, their defining feature is their danger and otherness rather than their moral character. In his examination of the Lion/Lamb hybrid of Rev. 5, Strawn concludes, “by quickly shifting the image to the lamb, the author protects against the equally profound negative aspects that also inhere in the lion image, inviting in their place the host of commonplaces associated with the lamb image.”107 This is an attractive interpretation that accounts for John’s rhetoric, but it makes two questionable assumptions regarding the audience. First, it is not clear that the shift from lion to lamb in fact protects against the tension introduced by the lion image. If that was the case, why introduce it in the first instance? Second, it assumes that the lamb is a symbol consistently understood as an example of meekness, self-sacrifice, and humility. As will be demonstrated below, the lamb imagery is more complex and disorientating than typically acknowledged. Scholars are quick to point out that the central image of the Apocalypse is Jesus as Lamb and not Lion.108 While that is partially true, scholars have neglected to explore what type of lamb is actually presented in Rev. 5. John uses the term arnion twenty-eight times throughout Revelation as a title for Christ, typically translated as “young lamb or sheep,” but never “ram” according to Loren Johns.109 This title is also never applied to Christ elsewhere in the New Testament and there is little evidence that it carries a sacrificial connotation.110 Already, the reader is alerted to the strangeness of this image that does not adhere to their previous conceptions of Christ as lamb. In contrast to the Lion, John provides a more comprehensive description of the Lamb that defies the imagination. This creature has seven horns and seven eyes, testifying to the uncanniness of this familiar animal. It is a lamb but not like any lamb known on earth. Additionally, this Lamb is not only hybrid due to its multiple horns and eyes,111 but it shares numerous characteristics associated with humans rather than animals. This hybrid Lamb is able to take the scroll from “the one sitting on the throne” and with its cloven hooves is able to open each seal (Rev. 6). This anthropomorphic language is assumed by the author, but it is important to note as it is one more way that the Lamb breaks normative categories. The earlier portrayal of Jesus as Son of Man emphasized that he was more than human, whereas the hybrid Lamb shows Jesus as more than animal. This super-lamb or what I call “hybrid Lamb” should not be read or understood as a normal animal, rather it is a monstrous representation. As a result, conclusions drawn about normal lambs and applied to this hybrid being are inaccurate and fail to capture its complexity. A helpful illustration is found in Craig R. Koester’s consternation regarding the incongruous presence of multiple horns on the Lamb. Horns for Koester are found predominantly on the Dragon and the beast, and “symbolize the violent capacities of evil (12:3; 13:1).”112 This assumption creates a double standard for deciphering the

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monstrous bodies of “good” creatures versus the “evil” ones. Thus, the horns are neutralized on predetermined benevolent beings while their presence on malevolent creatures is a measure of their demonic natures.113 Specifically, when associated with the Lamb, the horns for Koester symbolize “the power [of the Lamb] to overcome sin and evil.”114 I propose instead that this hybrid Lamb be recognized as a fission creature that combines aspects of the Lion and the Lamb in one body similar to the werewolf who is both human and wolf in one monstrous form. Therefore, the hybrid Lamb need not adhere to preconceived ideas regarding typical lambs, rather it is expected that it will be an ambivalent symbol. Ultimately, in many studies, the lion imagery is assumed to make way for the Lamb.115 By ignoring or replacing the powerful symbol of the lion, scholars emphasize the suffering victory of Christ and downplay the troubling associations of the Lamb with violence. For example, David L. Barr argues, “John asks us to see both that Jesus rejects the role of Lion, refuses to conquer through supernatural power, and that we must now give a radical new valuation to lambs; the sufferer is the conquerer, the victim the victor.”116 Many commentators adopt this position as they suppress the troubling implications of Christ as a lion and subsequent associations with violence by emphasizing the Lamb’s metaphorical and sacrificial nature.117 However, in recent works, scholars have begun to question the dismissal of lion imagery and advocate against seeing the Lamb as emblematic of nonviolence and self-sacrifice.118 The picture that emerges from the actions of the Lamb is ambivalent as it appears wounded yet also participates in and witnesses horrific violence. In particular, much of the violence found in Revelation is not perpetuated by the beasts and the Dragon but by the Lamb who opens each of the seals (Rev. 6:1, 3, 5, 7). Indeed, even the Lamb’s explicit opening of the seals is dismissed as commentators strive to distance the Lamb from the violence found in these episodes.119 Thus, Caird reads the Lamb as a symbol relating to the victory of God as understood through the crucifixion rather than bearing any responsibility for the violent judgments.120 John’s depiction of the Lamb is not one that is powerless but that unleashes his wrath and terrifying divine agents upon the earth. The argument is not that the violence of the Lamb makes it monstrous per se but that like all monsters it is dangerous, threatening, and other. My intent is to peel away the layers of scholarly interpretations that hide the numinous and ambivalent portrait found in the Apocalypse. Loren L. Johns notes that the Lamb is a “vigorous and majestic image” who is associated with power (Rev. 5:12) and might (Rev. 5:13).121 It is the opposite of what one expects from a vulnerable and meek lamb. Susan Hylen argues, “The ‘conquering’ of the lamb—even of a nonviolent lamb—rests to some extent on the logic of lionlike conquering. The lamb does not magically transform the lion into something nonviolent.”122

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Thus, John’s multiple metaphors must be accounted for despite their inherent tensions including the lion of Judah, the root of David, and the lamb.123 Additionally, behind these metaphors lurks the image of the divine warrior that informs John’s conception of Christ’s activity on heaven and earth. The metaphorical nature of the violence does not immediately transform it into nonviolence as John uses imperial power to promote his worldview.124 Thus, the new empire under the Lamb is eerily reminiscent of their present experience of colonial domination under the Roman Empire. This tension is apparent in the Apocalypse as people’s consistent emotion to the Lamb is fear. In horror movies, people react physically to the monster with “shuddering, nausea, shrinking, paralysis, screaming and revulsion.”125 This type of fear is envisioned in Rev. 6:16, as the people hide in caves hoping for respite from the judgments. They cry to the mountains and rocks, “Fall on us and hide us from the face of the one seated on the throne and the wrath of the Lamb, for the great day of their wrath has come, and who is able to stand?” (Rev. 6:16–17). In an interesting twist to absolve the Lamb from violence, Caird argues that the wrath of the Lamb is alien to John and is only placed on the lips of the inhabitants of the earth.126 He further adds that this phrase “the wrath of the Lamb” is the product of “tragic and paranoiac delusion” and not indicative of the true nature of Christ.127 In contrast, I argue that the actions of the Lamb are not passive but that John depicts it as an active participant who helps unleash judgment upon the earth multiple times. Otherwise, the cries of the martyrs in Rev. 6:10 who call out for vengeance and justice are superfluous if their pleas are dismissed by divine agents. John intentionally develops the affinity of Christ as a divine warrior through the shifting images ascribed to him throughout the Apocalypse. Does the Lion truly fade away or does John meld these two images into a hybrid being? Carson Bay applies the term “transmogrification” where an object “changes into something else while retaining original personality”128 to explain the fusion of Lion and Lamb. This is a helpful explanation, but it is not clear what type of creature results from this fusion that maintains its original features. Another possibility is that Jesus as Lion and Lamb is a fusion figure where both ideas remain in tension. Aune’s statement reflects this view, “It is not necessary to choose between these two possibilities, for it seems clear that the author of Revelation has fused both of these associations together in the single figure of the Lamb.”129 This attention to the amalgamation of the Lion and the Lamb is helpful but again the focus remains on the Lamb as the penultimate figure rather than on the newly created hybrid creature.130 Rebecca Skaggs and Thomas P. Doyle argue against privileging one image over another and propose instead that the combination of the Lion and the Lamb produces a new entity.131 This comes closest to capturing the essence of the fusion monster, where the hybrid creature is other and radically

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different from the original manifestations. However, in most interpretations, this monstrous representation of Christ as a hybrid Lion/Lamb is underdeveloped and sanitized to downplay its uncanny effects. John also alerts the reader to the otherness of this creature by its refusal to remain limited by borders. The Lamb is not only a hybrid being but a liminal one. Repeatedly, the Lamb is described as “slain yet alive” (Rev. 5:6, 9, 12; 13:8), an obvious reference to the crucifixion. The body of the Lamb is caught in-between, neither alive nor dead, straddling the border between these two polar states. Finally, in contrast to the more static image of “the one sitting on the throne,” the Lamb is a creature that is not limited by the boundaries between heaven and earth. It first enacts the breaking of the seals (Rev. 6) that inaugurates a series of terrible judgments against the earth and its inhabitants. Second, the Lamb crosses the porous boundaries between heaven and earth to stand on Mount Zion with its followers, gathering for war against the Dragon and beasts (Rev. 14:1). Later, an angel announces the coming fall of Babylon, noting that those who worship the beast will be tormented in the presence of the Lamb (Rev. 14:8–9). Clearly, the traditional boundaries between heaven, earth, and the abyss do not restrict the Lamb’s movements. Rider on the White Horse (Rev. 19:11–21) In these final chapters of Revelation, another metamorphosis of Christ appears,132 this time riding on a white horse: And I saw heaven opened, and behold a white horse! And the one who sat on it is called Faithful and True, and in righteousness he judges and makes war. His eyes are like a flame of fire, and on his head are many diadems, and he has a name written that no one knows but himself. He is clothed in a robe dipped in blood, and his name is called the Word of God. And the armies of heaven, clothed in fine linen, white and pure, were following him on white horses. From his mouth comes a sharp sword in order that with it he may strike down the nations, and he will rule them with a rod of iron; he treads the wine press of the fierce wrath of God the Almighty. And on his robe and on his thigh he has a name written, “King of kings and Lord of lords.” (Rev. 19:11–15)

The Lamb is eclipsed as the Rider called “Faithful and True” emerges to judge and make war. John’s description of this character strongly resembles the earlier Son of Man (Rev. 1:12–17).133 Both figures are robed (Rev. 1:13; 19:13), have eyes like flames of fire (Rev. 1:14; 19:12), a sword protrudes from their mouths (Rev. 1:16; 19:15), and command an assembly of beings (Rev. 1:16, 20; 19:14). The predominant image of Rev. 19 is that of the divine warrior and John’s portrait has deliberate nods to this tradition. The Rider’s

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robe dipped in blood (Rev. 19:13) recalls Isaiah’s description of God as a divine warrior whose garments are also similarly bloodstained (Isa. 63:1–3). Scholars often argue that this blood on the Rider’s robe recalls the crucifixion; however, Aune disagrees, “The blood mentioned here is not primarily a metaphor for the atoning death of Christ.”134 Instead, John portrays the Rider as an active participant in the judgment as he treads the winepress of God’s wrath (Rev. 19:15).135 Moreover, like any true warrior, this figure also has a weapon, though the picture John paints is jarring as this sword emerges from his mouth (Rev. 19:15). Scholars dismiss the violent imagery by noting that the sword represents “the word of God,”136 but they rarely pause to note the incongruity of the picture. Even in Rev. 19:21 where the sword is responsible for killing the beast’s army, providing a macabre feast for the birds, commentators insist that “The battle is won by the word of truth.”137 Like other monstrous creatures, the mouth with the sword is the focus of John’s vision, drawing the audience’s gaze multiple times to the threat of this figure (Rev. 19:21). The imperial overtones of this warrior are destabilizing as on one hand the Rider’s violence is considered justified by John, but authority ultimately comes through conquest and the shedding of blood, seemingly no different than other empires.138 Like most divine beings in Revelation, this figure is able to cross cosmic boundaries. At his arrival, the heavens open up (Rev. 19:11) and he leads a charge of heavenly beings across the divide. This figure is similar to that of the Son of Man who comes to reap the earth, though their methods of transport differ (Rev. 14:14–16).139 This divine reaper also provides access for other cosmic figures to cross from heaven to earth as they swing their sickles in terrifying judgment (Rev. 14:17–20). With regards to the Rider of Rev. 19, John appears to have difficulty in naming and identifying this figure: “he has a name inscribed that no one knows but himself” (Rev. 19:12). I am not convinced that this name is the tetragrammaton as Matthias Reinhard Hoffmann suggests; however, there is a similar sense that this figure cannot be reduced to human categories and languages.140 Moreover, multiple names are given to this being as he is called “Faithful and True,” “The Word of God” and “King of kings and Lord of lords.” This layering of names and attributes points to the unknowability of this figure who still retains a name that cannot be revealed. This figure of the Rider is slippery as it moves between metaphoric and literal imagery, as demonstrated by the attempts of scholars to justify or dismiss the violence incited by this being. These various images of Christ throughout the Apocalypse are reminiscent of a shapeshifter, moving between categories with ease. Across each of these permutations (Son of Man, Lion/Lamb, and Rider), the dominant image is that of the divine warrior that enacts judgment and violence. This portrait of the conquering warrior bears echoes of Roman triumphal processions merged

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with Jewish traditions of God as divine warrior, lending even more confusion to this image of Christ.141 John’s Jesus is not monstrous because he is violent but because he does not fit into known categories. He is dangerous, other, and excessively violent, provoking fear as he moves between heaven and earth. Too often, the violence of Jesus is excused as metaphorical without much evidence from the text. As Paul Middleton argues these interpretations “owe more to contemporary theological concerns than an attempt to understand John’s imagination.”142 John’s portrayal Jesus is not a comforting image as it disturbs and forces one to wrestle with the alignment of heavenly figures with excessive violence. Commentaries go to extraordinary lengths to explain away any associations of the Son of Man, Lamb, or Rider not only with violence but any type of monstrosity. However, that instinct is not shared with John who repeatedly portrays the body of Jesus as marvelous, extraordinary, and other. Despite modern tendencies to obscure this monstrous portrayal, John’s visions are haunting and disturbing, revealing that the boundaries separating the divine and the monstrous are simply interpretive constructions. CONCLUSION Emphasizing the monstrosity of God and Jesus complicates humanity’s relationship to heavenly beings by highlighting the uncanny similarities between all cosmic creatures. Hybridity emphasizes not only otherness but reinforces the distinctiveness of divine creatures apart from humans. Though God and Christ are represented using anthropomorphic language, it is clear that there are limits to these images that cannot completely capture the divine. Monster theory as a critical reading strategy understands the hybrid body not as evil per se, but as threatening, other, and fantastic. In addition to the composite bodies, John also portrays how these cosmic beings cross boundaries spatially and temporally. In particular, the liminal articulation of God and Jesus creates ambiguity regarding the association of divine and human communities. On one hand, multiple judgments are literally poured out onto the earth from heaven, leaving terror and horror in their wake at the behest of God and the Lamb. And yet, at the very end of Revelation a merging of the two cosmic realms is made possible with the coming of the New Jerusalem. Friesen raises an important point, “How can there be a heaven when the new Jerusalem has come down to the new earth, when God and the Lamb have vacated the transcendent realm to become the temple of God’s people, when the divine and the earthly abide together on intimate terms?”143 John’s Apocalypse creates more questions than answers, as God and Jesus become more incomprehensible even as John attempts to use familiar anthropomorphisms like that of a judge or warrior. The horror and terror created by heavenly figures is

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exponentially greater than that of the Dragon and the beasts, and it is unclear for how long the divine and human worlds can coexist in this New Jerusalem. The kingdom that emerges at the end of Revelation, acquired through violence and bloodshed, mimics in a disturbing way the current colonial situation of the assemblies John addresses. In his attempt to show that God and Jesus are mighty opponents to the Dragon and the beasts, John’s portrayals of these heavenly beings are uncanny in their resemblance to Roman imperial powers. NOTES 1. René Girard, Violence and the Sacred, trans. Patrick Gregory (London: Bloomsbury, 2013), 287. 2. Prominent studies of the divine warrior in the Hebrew Bible include: Patrick D. Miller, The Divine Warrior in Early Israel, Harvard Semitic Monographs No. 5 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1973); Adela Yarbro Collins, The Combat Myth in the Book of Revelation (Missoula: Scholars Press, 1976); Harold Wayne Ballard, The Divine Warrior Motif in the Psalms, BIBAL Dissertation Series 6 (North Richland Hills: BIBAL Press, 1999). 3. Patrick D. Miller, “Divine Council and the Prophetic Call to War,” Vetus Testamentum 18, no. 1 (January 1968): 104. 4. Elsewhere the coming of the divine warrior results in cosmic upheavals, for example: “The sun shall be turned to darkness, and the moon to blood, before the great and terrible day of the Lord comes” (Joel 2:31). 5. I understand the designation ha-satan to indicate an office rather than a specific name for the divine being. 6. Tina Dykesteen Nilsen, “The Creation of Darkness and Evil (Isaiah 45:6c7),” Revue Biblique 115, no. 1 (January 2008): 19. 7. Timothy K. Beal, Religion and Its Monsters (New York: Routledge, 2002), 19. 8. Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley and J. Paul Hunter, Frankenstein: The 1818 Text, Contexts, Nineteenth-Century Responses, Modern Criticism (New York: W.W. Norton, 1996), 88. 9. Beal, Religion and Its Monsters, 19. 10. The Hebrew Bible contains a broad spectrum of personal metaphors including: king, judge, father, mother, and master. Sallie McFague notes that this diversity of images is truncated in the New Testament as Jesus primarily uses the metaphor of God as father (Sallie McFague, Metaphorical Theology: Models of God in Religious Language [Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1982], 43). 11. McFague, Metaphorical Theology, 43. 12. Kalmanofsky’s work on God as monster in Jeremiah is a helpful example of such a phenomenon (Amy Kalmanofsky, Terror All Around: Horror, Monsters,

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and Theology in the Book of Jeremiah, The Library of Hebrew Bible/Old Testament Studies 390 [New York: T&T Clark, 2008]). 13. This is especially true regarding demons who are seen as distinct from gods by many today; however, in the ancient world they were simply viewed as lesser gods (Manfred Hutter, “Demons and Benevolent Spirits in the Ancient Near East: A Phenomenological Overview,” in Angels: The Concept of Celestial Beings—Origins, Development and Reception, ed. F. W. Reiterer and K. Schopflin, Deuterocanonical and Cognate Literature [Berlin: De Gruyter, 2007], 21). For Egyptian evidence, see Rita Lucarelli, “Demonology during the Late Pharaonic and Greco-Roman Periods in Egypt,” Journal of Ancient Near Eastern Religions 11, no. 2 (2011): 109–25. 14. David D. Gilmore, Monsters: Evil Beings, Mythical Beasts, and All Manner of Imaginary Terrors (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2012), 10. 15. R. Otto, The Idea of the Holy (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1958), 5. 16. Otto, The Idea of the Holy, 6. 17. Otto, The Idea of the Holy, 10. 18. Otto, The Idea of the Holy, 12. 19. Otto, The Idea of the Holy, 22. 20. Otto, The Idea of the Holy, 78; Beal, Religion and Its Monsters, 53–54. 21. Sallie McFague, Models of God: Theology for an Ecologial, Nuclear Age (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1987), 33. 22. Walter Brueggemann argues, “Yahweh is neither fully known nor completely exhausted in Israel’s testimony, because Yahweh is hidden, free, surprising, and elusive, and refuses to be caught in any verbal formulation” (Walter Brueggemann, Theology of the Old Testament: Testimony, Dispute, Advocacy [Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2005], 231). 23. Beal, Religion and Its Monsters, 10. 24. John Dominic Crossan, “Difference and Divinity,” Semeia 23 (1982): 31. 25. Ryan Higgins, “Of Gods and Monsters: Supernatural Beings in the Uncanny Valley,” The Journal of Hebrew Scriptures 16 (2016): 77. 26. Noel Carroll, The Philosophy of Horror: Or, Paradoxes of the Heart (New York: Routledge, 2003), 17. I have written elsewhere of the importance of fear in relation to the monstrous, see Heather Macumber, “A Monster without a Name: Creating the Beast Known as Antiochus IV in Daniel 7,” The Journal of Hebrew Scriptures 15 (2015): 9–11. 27. Tina Pippin, Apocalyptic Bodies: The Biblical End of the World in Text and Image (London: Routledge, 1999), 78. 28. Pippin, Apocalyptic Bodies, 78. 29. The prophet Isaiah in speaking of the coming judgment upon Judah and Jerusalem predicted that people will also “enter the holes of the rocks and the caves of the earth, from before the terror of the Lord and from the glory of his majesty, when he rises to terrify the earth” (Isa. 2:19). 30. Andreas Wagner, God’s Body: The Anthropomorphic God in the Old Testament, trans. Marion Salzmann (London: Bloomsbury T&T Clark, 2019), 142.

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31. Karel van der Toorn, “Speaking of Gods,” in God in Context: Selected Essays on Society and Religion in the Early Middle East, Forschungen zum Alten Testament 123 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2018), 242. 32. Toorn, “Speaking of Gods,” 242. 33. The divine warrior imagery is particularly prominent throughout the Apocalypse, see Tremper Longman III and Daniel G. Reid, God Is a Warrior, Studies in Old Testament Biblical Theology (Grand Rapids: Zondervan Academic, 2010), 180–92. 34. Toorn, “Speaking of Gods,” 5. 35. G. B. Caird, A Commentary on the Revelation of St. John the Divine, Black’s New Testament Commentaries (London: Black, 1966), 63; G. R. Beasley-Murray, The Book of Revelation, New Century Bible (London: Oliphants, 1974), 113; Richard Bauckham, The Theology of the Book of Revelation (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993), 44–45; Craig R. Koester, Revelation: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary, Anchor Yale Bible 38A (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2014), 368. 36. Stephen D. Moore, “The Beatific Vision as a Posing Exhibition: Revelation’s Hypermasculine Deity,” Journal for the Study of the New Testament 60 (December 1995): 31–32. 37. Caird, A Commentary on the Revelation of St. John the Divine, 63. 38. Esther J. Hamori, “When Gods Were Men”: The Embodied God in Biblical and Near Eastern Literature, Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 384 (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2008), 46–51. 39. Hamori, 47. Karel van der Toorn echoes a similar sentiment, “It is essential for God-hood to be, at least in some respects, human. The religious imagination is an anthropomorphic imagination” (Toorn, “Speaking of Gods,” 239). 40. Beale notes the dependence of John upon the structure of divine council imagery of Ezek. 1:26 and Dan. 7:9. In both instances, fire metaphors are used after the description of God and the divine throne (G. K. Beale, The Book of Revelation: A Commentary on the Greek Text, New International Greek Testament Commentary [Grand Rapids: W. B. Eerdmans, 1999], 326). 41. The footsteps at the ‘Ain Dara temple may testify to ancient notions of the massive stature of deities. See John M. Monson, “‘Ain Dara Temple and the Jerusalem Temple,” in Text, Artifact, and Image: Revealing Ancient Israelite Religion, ed. Gary M. Beckman and Theodore J. Lewis, Brown Judaic Studies 346 (Providence: Brown Judaic Studies, 2006), 273–99. Mark S. Smith also notes the gigantic size of God in Exod. 24:1–11 and 33:17–23 (Mark S. Smith, “The Three Bodies of God in the Hebrew Bible,” Journal of Biblical Literature 134, no. 3 [2015]: 478–81). 42. Stephen D. Moore, “Gigantic God: Yahweh’s Body,” Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 21, no. 70 (June 1996): 96–97. An exception to this trend is found in Gen. 18 where God and two angels are described as men (Hamori, “When Gods Were Men,” 65–96; Smith, “The Three Bodies of God in the Hebrew Bible,” 474–75). 43. Moore, “The Beatific Vision as a Posing Exhibition”; Koester, Revelation, 368. 44. David E. Aune, Revelation 1-5, Word Biblical Commentary 52A (Dallas: Word, 1997), 285.

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45. Moore, “The Beatific Vision as a Posing Exhibition,” 49–50. 46. Beasley-Murray, The Book of Revelation, 113. 47. Beale, The Book of Revelation, 321. 48. Toorn, “Speaking of Gods,” 248. 49. Leonard L. Thompson, The Book of Revelation: Apocalypse and Empire (New York: Oxford University Press, 1990), 47. 50. David E. Aune, “The Influence of Roman Imperial Court Ceremonial on the Apocalypse of John,” Biblical Research 28 (1983): 5–26. 51. Aune, “The Influence of Roman Imperial Court Ceremonial on the Apocalypse of John,” 9–22. 52. Aune, “The Influence of Roman Imperial Court Ceremonial on the Apocalypse of John,” 5. 53. Homi K. Bhabha, The Location of Culture (London: Routledge, 2004). For a discussion of colonial mimicry applied to Revelation, see Stephen D. Moore, Untold Tales from the Book of Revelation: Sex and Gender, Empire and Ecology, Resources for Biblical Study 79 (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2014), 13–37. 54. Moore, Untold Tales from the Book of Revelation, 28–32. 55. Moore, “The Beatific Vision as a Posing Exhibition,” 49. 56. Homi K. Bhabha, “Culture’s In Between,” Artforum 32, no. 1 (1993): 167. 57. Bhabha, “Culture’s In Between,” 167. 58. Aune, “The Influence of Roman Imperial Court Ceremonial,” 10. 59. Laszlo Gallusz, The Throne Motif in the Book of Revelation, Library of New Testament Studies 487 (London: Bloomsbury, 2014), 103. 60. Beale, The Book of Revelation, 320. 61. Gallusz, The Throne Motif in the Book of Revelation, 114. 62. Gallusz, The Throne Motif in the Book of Revelation, 114. 63. Maria Beville, The Unnameable Monster in Literature and Film (London and New York: Routledge, 2013), 2. I have written elsewhere about the power of the unnameable monster in Daniel (Macumber, “A Monster without a Name,” 20–21). 64. Bauckham, The Theology of the Book of Revelation, 27. 65. Bauckham, The Theology of the Book of Revelation, 27. 66. Adela Yarbro Collins, The Apocalypse, New Testament Message 22 (Collegeville: Liturgical Press, 1979), 9. 67. Steven J. Friesen, Imperial Cults and the Apocalypse of John: Reading Revelation in the Ruins (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 155. 68. David E. Aune, Revelation 17-22, Word Biblical Commentary 52C (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 1998), 1101. 69. Girard, Violence and the Sacred, 287. 70. Robert Mills, “Jesus as Monster,” in Monstrous Middle Ages, ed. Bettina Bildhauer and Robert Mills (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2003), 35–36. 71. Mills, “Jesus as Monster,” 42–43. 72. St. Antoninus, archbishop of Florence, Summa Theologica, 4 vols. (Verona: Ballerini, 1740; repr. Graz: Akademische Druck & Verlagsanstalt, 1959), iii, col. 321 (s. 8, ch. 4) as quoted in Mills, “Jesus as Monster,” 38.

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73. Carroll, The Philosophy of Horror, 43. 74. Carroll, The Philosophy of Horror, 43. 75. Carroll, The Philosophy of Horror, 45–46. 76. Carroll, The Philosophy of Horror, 46. 77. Beale argues that the descriptor of burnished bronze as from a furnace refers to this figure’s “moral purity” (Beale, The Book of Revelation, 209–10). This type of reading moves too quickly away from considering the uncanniness of the divine figure to adopting a symbolic or theological interpretation. 78. Fletcher observes that the figure in Dan. 10 has bronze legs and arms rather than feet as in Rev. 1. She points to other influential traditions found in Ezek. 1:26–28 as well as Greco-Roman statues of Augustus whose bare feet are highlighted (Michelle Fletcher, Reading Revelation as Pastiche: Imitating the Past, Library of New Testament Studies 571 [New York: Bloomsbury T&T Clark, 2017], 94–95). 79. Fletcher, Reading Revelation as Pastiche, 91–98. 80. For a discussion of the various allusions and echoes to biblical and GrecoRoman texts, see Fletcher, Reading Revelation as Pastiche, 91–98. 81. Koester, Revelation, 253. 82. Koester, Revelation, 253. Similar ideas are found in Isa. 11:4; 49:2; 1 En. 62:2. 83. Koester, Revelation, 247. 84. Pippin, Apocalyptic Bodies, 89. 85. Thompson, The Book of Revelation, 47. 86. Macumber, “A Monster without a Name,” 10–11. See also Pippin, Apocalyptic Bodies, 103; Carroll, The Philosophy of Horror, 17. 87. Robyn J. Whitaker, Ekphrasis, Vision, and Persuasion in the Book of Revelation, Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament 2. Reihe 410 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2015), 86. 88. Whitaker, Ekphrasis, Vision, and Persuasion in the Book of Revelation, 85; Fletcher, Reading Revelation as Pastiche, 94–95. 89. Stephen D. Moore, “Ruminations on Revelation’s Ruminant Quadrupedal Christ; or, the Even-Toed Ungulate That Therefore I Am,” in The Bible and Posthumanism, ed. Jennifer L. Koosed (Atlanta: SBL, 2014), 306n15. 90. Another category of interest is that of gender implied by the use of the term mastoi in Rev. 1:13 typically translated as “chest” but the term “breasts” is also possible. 91. Loren T. Stuckenbruck, Angel Veneration and Christology: A Study in Early Judaism and in the Christology of the Apocalypse of John, Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament 2. Reihe 70 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1995), 240. 92. Christopher Rowland, “The Vision of the Risen Christ in Rev. 1:13 Ff: The Debt of an Early Christology to an Aspect of Jewish Angelology,” Journal of Theological Studies 31, no. 2 (1980): 8. 93. Otto, The Idea of the Holy, 13. 94. Otto, The Idea of the Holy, 21. 95. Colleen M. Conway, Behold the Man: Jesus and Greco-Roman Masculinity (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008), 161.

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96. Conway, Behold the Man, 161. 97. Aune, Revelation 1-5, 129. 98. Conway, Behold the Man, 162. 99. Moore, “The Beatific Vision as a Posing Exhibition”; Conway, Behold the Man, 159–74. 100. Caird, A Commentary on the Revelation of St. John the Divine, 74–75; M. Eugene Boring, Revelation, Interpretation (Louisville: John Knox Press, 1989), 110–11; Beale, The Book of Revelation, 351–54; Koester, Revelation, 385–86. 101. Boring, Revelation, 110. For a similar statement, see Caird, A Commentary on the Revelation of St. John the Divine, 75. 102. Steve Moyise, “Does the Lion Lie down with the Lamb?,” in Studies in the Book of Revelation, ed. Steve Moyise (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 2001), 181–94; Brent A. Strawn, “Why Does the Lion Disappear in Revelation 5?: Leonine Imagery in Early Jewish and Christian Literatures,” Journal for the Study of the Pseudepigrapha 17, no. 1 (2007): 37–74; Rebecca Skaggs and Thomas P. Doyle, “Lion/Lamb in Revelation,” Currents in Biblical Research 7, no. 3 (June 2009): 362–75; Carson Bay, “Lion of the Apocalypse: A Leonine Messiah in the Book of Revelation,” Biblical Research 60 (2015): 65–93. 103. For an excellent overview of lion imagery in the ancient world, see Brent A. Strawn, What is Stronger than a Lion? Leonine Image and Metaphor in the Hebrew Bible and the Ancient Near East, Orbis Biblicus et Orientalis 212 (Fribourg: Academic Press: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht: Göttingen, 2005). 104. Strawn, “Why Does the Lion Disappear in Revelation 5?,” 41. 105. Strawn, “Why Does the Lion Disappear in Revelation 5?,” 43. 106. Strawn, What is Stronger than a Lion?, 65. 107. Strawn, “Why Does the Lion Disappear in Revelation 5?,” 73. 108. Caird, A Commentary on the Revelation of St. John the Divine, 75; Boring, Revelation, 110–11; Robert H. Mounce, The Book of Revelation, New International Commentary on the New Testament (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998), 132; Thomas Slater, Christ and Community: A Socio-Historical Study of the Christology of Revelation, Journal for the Study of the New Testament Supplement Series 178 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1999), 162; Sophie Susan Laws, In the Light of the Lamb: Imagery, Parody, and Theology in the Apocalypse of John (Eugene: Wipf and Stock, 2014), 24. 109. Loren L. Johns, The Lamb Christology of the Apocalypse of John: An Investigation into its Origins and Rhetorical Force, Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament 2. Reihe 167 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003), 22–24. 110. Johns, The Lamb Christology of the Apocalypse of John, 39. 111. Hybridity is not always cross-species but can include composite or multiple parts of its own body (Daniel Ogden, Drakōn: Dragon Myth and Serpent Cult in the Greek and Roman Worlds [Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013], 68). 112. Koester, Revelation, 386. 113. In contrast, Patricia M. McDonald argues “With its seven horns and seven eyes, it is clearly on the side of God” (Patricia M. McDonald, “Lion as Slain Lamb:

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On Reading Revelation Recursively,” Horizons 23, no. 1 [1996]: 33). Unfortunately, she does not explain her reasoning or why this picture of the Lamb is so clearly aligned with God rather than the Dragon and beasts. 114. Koester, Revelation, 386. 115. David L. Barr, “The Apocalypse as a Symbolic Transformation of the World: A Literary Analysis,” Interpretation 38, no. 1 (January 1984): 41; Boring, Revelation, 110; Thompson, The Book of Revelation, 58–59; Johns, The Lamb Christology of the Apocalypse of John, 195; Koester, Revelation, 375. 116. Barr, “The Apocalypse as a Symbolic Transformation of the World,” 41. 117. Richard Bauckham, Climax of Prophecy: Studies on the Book of Revelation (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1998), 183; Mounce, The Book of Revelation, 144–46; James L. Resseguie, The Revelation of John: A Narrative Commentary (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2009), 133–35. 118. Moyise, “Does the Lion Lie down with the Lamb?”; Susan Hylen, “Metaphor Matters: Violence and Ethics in Revelation,” The Catholic Biblical Quarterly 73, no. 4 (October 2011): 777–96; Bay, “Lion of the Apocalypse”; Paul Middleton, The Violence of the Lamb: Martyrs as Agents of Divine Judgement in the Book of Revelation (London: T&T Clark, 2018), 65–92. 119. Caird, A Commentary on the Revelation of St. John the Divine, 90–91. 120. Caird, A Commentary on the Revelation of St. John the Divine, 91. 121. Johns, The Lamb Christology of the Apocalypse of John, 24. 122. Hylen, “Metaphor Matters,” 789. 123. Hylen, “Metaphor Matters,” 786. 124. Greg Carey, Elusive Apocalypse: Reading Authority in the Revelation to John, Studies in American Biblical Hermeneutics 15 (Macon: Mercer University Press, 1999), 175. 125. Carroll, The Philosophy of Horror, 18. 126. Caird, A Commentary on the Revelation of St. John the Divine, 92. 127. Caird, A Commentary on the Revelation of St. John the Divine, 92. 128. Bay, “Lion of the Apocalypse,” 91n102. This concept is derived from Bill Watterson’s Calvin and Hobbes comic strips. 129. Aune, Revelation 1-5, 368. 130. Bauckham does argue that the contrasting symbols of lion and lamb create “essentially a new symbol” but the lamb imagery still remains the primary interpretive key (Bauckham, Climax of Prophecy, 183). 131. Skaggs and Doyle, “Lion/Lamb in Revelation,” 367. 132. This is the most accepted interpretation though some understand this figure as an angelic being like Michael. For the identification of this figure with Christ, see Matthias Reinhard Hoffmann, The Destroyer and the Lamb: The Relationship Between Angelomorphic and Lamb Christology in the Book of Revelation, Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament 2. Reihe 203 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2005), 176–81. 133. For a detailed examination of the similarities, see Gregory M. Barnhill, “Seeing Christ through Hearing the Apocalypse: An Exploration of John’s Use of

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Ekphrasis in Revelation 1 and 19,” Journal for the Study of the New Testament 39, no. 3 (2017): 244–49. 134. Aune, Revelation 17-22, 1057. 135. Though some see this blood as belonging to Jesus (Koester, Revelation, 755–56), the reliance on Isa. 63 suggests stronger parallels with the image of the divine warrior who tramples his enemies underfoot. 136. Aune, Revelation 17-22, 133. 137. Koester, Revelation, 762. 138. Conway, Behold the Man, 165. 139. Hoffmann, The Destroyer and the Lamb, 181. 140. Hoffmann, The Destroyer and the Lamb, 177. 141. Aune, Revelation 17-22, 1050–52. 142. Middleton, The Violence of the Lamb, 184. 143. Friesen, Imperial Cults and the Apocalypse of John, 157.

Chapter 4

Uncovering a Divine Army

Every angel is terrible1 Rilke, Duino Elegies

The Apocalypse is a tale of war that breaks out between heaven and earth. Two sides face off against each other: God and the Lamb versus the Dragon and the beasts. One might visualize a clear division between opponents like a chessboard, but the Apocalypse is filled with ambiguous characters whose membership on either side is debateable. The dualism of Revelation presupposes easy identification of characters as good or evil; however, many of these hybrid creatures are difficult to categorize. God and the Lamb directly employ some of these beings (e.g., four horsemen, locusts) while others remain under the control of the great Dragon (e.g., beasts, frogs). In many cases, it is difficult to distinguish if these beings are good or evil in their allegiance. This chapter examines those hybrid and liminal creatures, some of which are often labeled “demonic” by scholars but surprisingly are employed by God and the Lamb in the divine army. The designation “demonic” is typically applied to these creatures based on two main criteria: their hybrid appearance and their origins, whether unknown or from the abyss. As noted previously, hybridity itself is an insufficient way to categorize the nature of the monster. Additionally, an artificial separation of the cosmic creatures found in John’s Apocalypse presupposed by their geographic location is problematic.2 This binary division between the world above and the one below does not adequately reflect the complex nature of these interstitial creatures that regularly cross boundaries. This chapter is bookended by analyzing two groups of beings who are traditionally aligned with the heavenly realm by scholars—the living creatures and the two witnesses—yet both 75

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are presented as hybrid entities by John. In this chapter, I draw attention to the monstrous characteristics shared between them and other beings generally judged as demonic. Between these traditionally “good” creatures, I will examine various sets of cosmic figures that are considered either demonic or grotesque, a list that includes the four riders of the Apocalypse (Rev. 6:1–7), the falling star and Abaddon (Rev. 9:1–11), the locusts (Rev. 9:1–11), and the horrific cavalry (Rev. 9:13–21). My aim is to dismantle the generic constructions of demonic and angelic, and to propose that they impede our interpretation of John’s apocalyptic visions. I echo the sentiment of Rilke that “every angel is terrible,” capable of incredible violence and horror, all in the service of the divine army.3 As noted in the previous chapter, the figure of the divine warrior is a prominent image that John relies on repeatedly.4 However, scholars focus on Rev. 12–13 and 19 where the conflict myth is most prominent.5 It is less common to find references to the divine warrior in the opening of the seals or the blowing of the trumpets that unleash a series of hybrid and liminal cosmic figures from the divine throne room (Rev. 6–9).6 Or when it is noted, there is ambiguity with regard to classifying the cosmic beings and they are frequently labeled as demonic. In contrast, I argue that these hybrid and liminal creatures are part of the divine army authorized by the throne room regardless of their malevolent or dangerous characteristics. Conversely, it is their threatening natures and abilities that make them prime candidates for the battle against the Dragon and beasts. Their allegiance to God is unquestionable and despite their monstrous appearance they are considered integral parts of God’s divine army. The aim of this chapter is not to be exhaustive in examining all the divine figures found in John’s Apocalypse but to focus on those that blur the boundaries between good and evil in scholarship.7 Special attention is placed on how these diverse creatures, whether understood as benevolent or malevolent, each share traits indicative of the monstrous and uncanny regardless of predetermined categories. Juxtaposing cosmic creatures traditionally understood as good with those deemed evil blurs the boundaries between them demonstrating its artificiality and invites a reappraisal of all figures as monsters. ANGELS & DEMONS Before proceeding to a detailed examination of the divine army found in John’s Apocalypse, it is helpful to pause and examine common terminology used to describe the cosmic beings. Defining the difference between an angel and a demon is not a straightforward endeavor. In modern culture, an angel is equated with a good divine being while a demon is considered a servant of

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the Devil. Both angels and demons are hybrid and liminal beings; however, they are generally regarded as distinct entities. And yet, the modern labels given to these cosmic creatures are not necessarily recognizable to an ancient audience. I have chosen to use the term monster or monstrous to describe all divine beings in John’s Apocalypse regardless of whether they are traditionally characterized as good or evil. When something is marked as demonic, that lens subsequently shapes one’s interpretation and creates artificial boundaries between these beings. In this chapter and the rest of the book, my aim is to operate under one large umbrella by reading all cosmic creatures as monstrous. Each of these beings are other, dangerous, threatening, and at times horrifying but the terminology of demonic or evil is not one that John regularly employs in the text.8 The monster resists categories; however, the inclusion of all uncanny and otherworldly beings under the one term gives room to analyze their commonalities despite the tendency to highlight their differences. The word angel is generally assumed to denote a good and benevolent being that intercedes between God and humanity for their well-being. The most recognizable function of these entities is that of a messenger who announces good news popularized in the Nativity story (Luke 2:8–13). However, this is only one function of these divine beings and the overuse of the term “angel” truncates their rich history in the Hebrew Bible.9 Angels did not serve only as messengers but took on functions as warriors (Deut. 33:2–3; Josh. 5:14; Judg. 5:20; 2 Kgs. 6:17), guides (Ezek. 40–48), and interpreters (Zech. 1–6; Dan. 7–8) among others. Though the Hebrew term mal’āk is most frequently employed, other types of divine beings include the seraphim, cherubim, rephaim, and the satan. These otherworldly creatures comprise the divine council of God and should more accurately be understood as minor deities in accordance with other ancient Near Eastern traditions.10 The council could intercede on behalf of humanity in beneficial ways, but often one finds these beings involved in scenes of judgment. Two primary duties of the divine council were to act as a military host (Deut. 33:2–3; Judg. 5:20; 2 Kgs. 6:17; Ps. 68:17; 89:6–9) and as a judicial body (Job 1–2; Zech. 3; Ps. 82).11 Some of the members of the council take on ambivalent roles as they are commissioned to harm either the people of God or Israel’s enemies. Prominent examples include the destroyer (Exod. 12:23), the lying spirit (1 Kgs. 22:19–23), and the seven punishing angels (Ezek. 9:1–10:7). The punitive role of these divine beings is found throughout the Hebrew Bible and into the Second Temple Period.12 The single term angel does not cover the diversity of divine beings, their roles, or their functions as they act on behalf of God whether to help or harm humanity.13 Bennie H. Reynolds III notes that older Israelite traditions were more than aware of the benevolent and malevolent potential of these entities but they “conceived of them as functioning

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within a unified and organized cosmic moral program.”14 John’s use of punishing agents places him firmly in the trajectory of earlier biblical writers who were fully cognizant of the terrifying nature of God’s divine beings. Despite my hesitation regarding the helpfulness of the term angel, I will use it when discussing divine beings that originate from heaven especially when John uses the term. However, adopting the nomenclature of angel does not remove them from the larger umbrella of the monster or imply a moral judgment on their nature or character. The designation demon is also problematic for describing the growing number of malevolent or harmful beings that begin to emerge in the Second Temple Period. Lowell K. Handy has noted that the concept of a demon as a malfunctioning messenger rises in contrast to angels with the development of monotheism in Israel.15 The Greek word daimon is used primarily for any divine being without the expected negative connotations.16 Similarly to the term angel, the word daimon is used in parallel to theoi “gods.”17 In one strand of Jewish tradition, the origin of demons is traced back to the Book of Watchers and its expansion of the “sons of God” tradition. Demons are understood as the ultimate product of the improper mixing of the sons of God with human women that results in a race of giants (Gen. 6:1–4; 1 En. 15:1–16:1). This offspring, both angelic and human, is considered an abomination that is eradicated by the angel Gabriel (1 En. 10:9). However, though the giants are killed, evil spirits are released from their bodies becoming known as demons (1 En. 15:11–16:1). These liminal beings are portrayed as malevolent and under the authority of an angelic leader like Mastemah (Jub. 10:7–11) or Belial (1QM XIII,10–12).18 A chief characteristic of the demons is their desire re-inhabit the human form; hence, the threat of demonic attack and possession is paramount in the sources.19 These demonic beings share with the cosmic creatures of Revelation a destructive capacity to harm and kill, but in contrast, their allegiance to Mastemah or Belial is firmly established. The divine beings examined in this chapter are much closer in their function to the punishing angels of God’s divine army than to later demons, and conflating their roles obscures the complexity of God’s army. Thus, I will refrain from using the terms demon or demonic to refer to such divine beings and instead will consider them as monstrous entities. THE FOUR LIVING CREATURES (REV. 4–5) There is discomfort in labeling divine beings located in heaven as monsters. I begin my examination with the living creatures because they are found at the very heart of the heavenly realm, surrounding the divine throne. Scholars do not question their allegiance to God or their designation as good beings,

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even though they exemplify both the hybrid and liminal natures common to monsters. With regard to hybridity, the living creatures not only combine traits of animals and humans but are potentially portrayed as both animate and inanimate beings. The association of positive divine figures as hybrid beings is mistakenly considered rare20 or is viewed as a sign of creation’s wholeness.21 Instead, I propose that hybridity be considered a key indicator of monstrosity, not pointing toward perfection but otherness. John’s description of these living creatures that surround the throne is a strange and bizarre sight to behold: And in the midst of the throne and around the throne were four living creatures, full of eyes in front and behind. And the first living creature was like a lion, the second living creature was like an ox, the third living creature had a face like a human, and the fourth living creature was like a flying eagle. And the four living creatures, each with six wings, were filled with eyes around and inside. And they did not cease day and night saying, “Holy, holy, holy, the Lord God the Almighty who was and is and is to come.” (Rev. 4:6b–8)

Borrowing from both Isaiah’s divine council vision (Isa. 6) and Ezekiel’s merkavah traditions (Ezek. 1:5–25; 10), John produces his own hybrid version of these creatures. Unlike Ezekiel’s beings that each have four faces, the living creatures in the Apocalypse have a single face resembling, respectively, a lion, an ox, a human face, and an eagle. A second difference is that three of John’s living creatures are likely not human-animal hybrids as found in Ezek. 1. As Peter R. Carrell notes, Ezek. 1:6 describes its creatures as having a human form while John makes no mention of their bodies.22 Their hybridity stems from the addition of multiple wings drawn from the cherubim of Isa. 6 and the addition of numerous eyes “all around and inside” (Rev. 4:8). Furthermore, the placement of the eyes on the living creatures is unclear as the Greek might indicate their location on the wings or all over their body.23 Scholars are unable to definitively categorize these hybrid beings observing that “the living creatures function like the angels.”24 This explanation fails to capture their complexity, as angels do not function as a uniform group and the living creatures are not messengers. Due to John’s amalgamation of traits from Isaiah’s seraphim and Ezekiel’s cherubim, their exact identification becomes ambiguous. Like other cherubim, they continue to serve as part of the divine throne (1 Sam. 4:4; Isa. 37:16; Ezek. 1; 10:20–22) but they also participate in worship like Isaiah’s winged seraphim singing “Holy, holy, holy” (Isa. 6:3; Rev. 4:8). David Halperin argues that “Revelation’s ‘living creatures’ (zōa) are obviously Ezekiel’s ḥayyot.”25 However, he also observes the fusion of Ezekiel’s ḥayyot with Isaiah’s seraphim,26 proving how difficult it is to classify John’s hybrid creations. Scholars have generally linked the

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Hebrew cherubim to the winged sphinxes and lions of the ancient world, though there is not one specific hybrid animal combination.27 John’s melding of traditions and images do not follow a set pattern but reinforce the uncanniness of these figures who are the last barrier to “the one sitting on the throne.” In addition to the mixing of categories of human, angel, and animal, there is also a strong possibility that the living creatures merge the animate and inanimate. John describes the placement of the living creatures as “in the midst of” and “around” the throne (Rev. 4:6b) leading to numerous interpretive proposals.28 One of the more common proposals is that the living creatures stand close to the throne without becoming a part of it.29 In contrast, Robert G. Hall disagrees and instead offers the suggestion that the living creatures do not merely surround the throne but are living parts of it.30 He draws on the traditions found in Ezekiel where the cherubim are part of the throne even though they are described beneath it (Ezek. 1:26). Besides a reference in Josephus (Ant. 3.137) that gives an earlier example of the living creatures engraved on the mercy seat, Hall’s evidence (CantR 3.10.4; PRE 4) is much later than the writing of John’s Apocalypse.31 However, Darrel D. Hannah has added to Hall’s argument by noting the similar language found in the Songs of the Sabbath Sacrifice that describes the temple as engraved with living spirits and holy angels (4Q405 14–15 I, 2–5; 19, 5–8).32 The texts are fragmentary and the actual throne is not described, but Hannah argues that the ophannim are both wheels and a distinct angelic class, making it likely that the throne was also intimately connected with the figures of the living creatures.33 The evidence is not conclusive but there is a strong possibility that John uses similar traditions that invoke the living creatures as part of the divine throne combining the inanimate and animate. It is typical to think of monsters as the aggressors that come to attack the defenseless and unsuspecting. However, monsters are often appointed as guardians to prevent humans from trespassing in areas forbidden to them. A well-known example is Cerberus, the hellhound who guards the entrance to Hades against human trespassers (Hesiod, Theog. 767–74). The tales of Heracles, told from his perspective, portray Cerberus as the monster and Heracles as the hero (Apollodorus, Bibliotheca 2.5.12). Yet, it is Heracles that is crossing a boundary while Cerberus is performing its appointed function as gatekeeper. The use of the monstrous or hybrid creature was common in the ancient world especially at gates or in throne rooms.34 They guarded the boundaries of the known world and served as a warning to any that might trespass. As J. J. Cohen observes, “The monster of prohibition exists to demarcate the bonds that hold together that system of relations we call culture, to call horrid attention to the borders that cannot—must not—be crossed.”35 Likewise, a primary duty of biblical cherubim is to guard the entrance to the garden (Gen. 3:24; Ezek. 28:14) or the ark in the holy of

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holies (1 Kgs. 8:7). Moreover, they not only guard the boundaries between the divine and human realms, but they also serve as “channels for the divine into the human world.”36 This function of the cherubs is highlighted in Ezek. 10:7 where a cherub provides fire for the figure clothed in linen to scatter over Jerusalem.37 Stephen L. Cook calls the cherubim “controlling ‘valves’ of fiery holiness.”38 Their presence marks the final boundary to God, serving a vital mediating role by monitoring access to the divine. This function accords well with the role of the living creatures in Revelation who control the release of God’s judgments by calling on the four riders (Rev. 6:1–7) and giving the bowls of God’s wrath to the seven angels (Rev. 15:7–8). The cherubim are portrayed ambivalently in the biblical text as they are neither good nor evil.39 They fall under Otto’s label of mysterium tremendum, that which cannot be categorized or labeled, but engenders fear and awe simultaneously.40 This fear of such divine creatures is recorded in a thirteenth-century rabbinic interpretation of the cherubim at the gate of Eden as “angels in the form of demons.”41 Regarding the living creatures of Revelation, Halperin describes them as possessing “a rather sinister aura, like the traditional executioner with his black mask and bloody axe.”42 As in Ezek. 10, the living creatures are directly involved in bringing judgment through equipping or calling another divine being for the task. Thus, their composite appearance serves as a warning of their danger and otherness rather than a symbol of harmony.43 The emphasis on the wholeness of the living creature’s hybridity serves to diminish their monstrosity, rendering them less grotesque. Yet, John does not share this sentiment, as his living creatures are intimately involved in judgment and punishment multiple times throughout John’s visions. THE FOUR HORSEMEN (REV. 6:1–7) The threat of the living creatures is channeled through the next otherworldly figures to appear in John’s visions. The iconic four riders of the Apocalypse are summoned one by one with the repeated command “Come!” issued by the living creatures in the divine throne room (Rev. 6:1–7). Albrecht Dürer’s famous series of woodcuts (1498) has memorialized the four riders of the Apocalypse as a collective group trampling the bodies of their victims. In recent years, artists have divorced them from their religious setting in Revelation to represent more generally the end of the world.44 However, Dürer’s image maintains the divine connection with a heavenly entity at the top of the frame who appears to be directing the four riders forward.45 The inclusion of a divine being or living creature in presentations of the four horsemen was common in medieval images. Thus, the four riders were considered neither satanic nor demonic but part of the divine army of God whose

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actions are inaugurated by the Lamb.46 This link between the four horsemen and the heavenly realm is too often ignored or dismissed in scholarship as their activity is considered only tolerated by the divine realm rather than explicitly sanctioned. Indeed, the activity of the riders is confounding especially to commentators who strive to fit them into neat categories. In fact, it is the Lamb who opens each of the seals before the living creatures unleash the horsemen (Rev. 6:1, 3, 5, 7). Scholars are divided on the nature of these beings and how to account for their association with God and the Lamb. One position argues that the four horsemen are evil beings employed by God while maintaining a firm distinction between them and the heavenly court.47 In other words, there is no possibility of spreading the contamination from the riders to the heavenly realm. Caird argues, “They cannot therefore be regarded as obedient angels, faithfully carrying out the task of retribution allotted them by God. It follows that all four riders represent evils which are not directly caused by the will of God, but only tolerated by his permission.”48 This waffling on the involvement of the Lamb and by extension God is indicative of some commentators who seek to excuse the alliance of God and these “evil” riders. The dismissal of God’s involvement is problematic as it is the living creatures that summon the riders to “Come!” not once but four times (Rev. 6:1, 3, 5, 7), instigating their destructive activity. Scholars have addressed this difficulty with limited success. First, Caird argues that the summoning of these creatures “is not calling disasters into existence” but “turning human wickedness to the service of God’s purpose.”49 It is significant for Caird that the destructive judgments are not natural disasters but “the result of human sin.”50 Therefore, in his view, God is not the architect or the cause of these judgments, except indirectly. Koester occupies a middle position as he states, “The threats represented by the horsemen are not directly imposed by God and yet seem subject to God.”51 The connection between the throne and the riders is apparent to scholars; however, their attempts to distance God from the horrific judgments reflect their unease with the proximity of these riders and the divine. Early interpretive traditions also demonstrated a similar hesitancy with the alliance of God and the four riders. G. K. Beale notes that some early manuscripts include the imperative “behold” after “come” as a command to John rather than the riders.52 This is likely to resolve the theological difficulties of God commanding destructive forces like the four horsemen. However, the single imperative “come” is considered the harder reading and supported by the best manuscripts.53 Rather than excusing the connection between the riders and the throne, I follow the medieval artists’ understanding that the riders are directly controlled by the divine realm. There are numerous textual clues that further make this connection. First, the voice of the initial living creature is described as thunder following the command “come” linking it back to the theophanic

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language of Rev. 4:5 where lightning and thunder issue from the throne of God.54 Second, the aorist passive verb edothē is used for all but the third rider, implying divine assent and activity.55 This verb is used elsewhere in the Apocalypse for otherworldly figures including the following: the martyrs (Rev. 6:11), the four angels at the corner of the earth (Rev. 7:2), the angels who received the seven trumpets (Rev. 8:2–3), the falling star that opens the abyss (Rev. 9:1), the locusts (Rev. 9:3), the Gentiles (Rev. 11:2), the two witnesses (Rev. 11:3), the Woman clothed with the sun (Rev. 12:14), and the beast (Rev. 13:14–15). As is apparent from the above examples, this language of divine assent is used for both positive and negative creatures in John’s Apocalypse.56 As will be argued in this chapter, determining the “good” or “evil” agents is not a clear-cut enterprise and the repeated use of divine assent complicates easy identification. A final link between the riders and the divine realm is made explicit in verse 6, as the seer states, “and I heard something like a voice in the mist of the four living creatures saying.” This is not the voice of the living creatures but likely “the one sitting on the throne” who associates directly with the actions of these terrifying riders.57 John has no hesitancy in connecting the four riders with the divine realm; they are clearly depicted as conduits of God’s judgment and wrath inaugurated by the Lamb and the living creatures. Identifying the four horsemen with the demonic or evil overly complicates the reading and forces commentators to excuse God’s relation to these punishing agents. Instead, I propose that the four riders are a continuation of the divine warrior theme found elsewhere in John’s Apocalypse. In particular, the four horsemen resemble the divine cavalry found in Zech. 1:7–11 and 6:1–8. These horses and riders in Zechariah’s night visions are divine beings employed by God to patrol the heavens and earth. They are viewed as an extension of the divine council as they operate under its direction. And yet, in John’s adaptation of similar horses and riders, they are traditionally read as demonic though their activities are closely related to the divine throne room. In fact, the link between John’s four riders and the living creatures (Rev. 6:1) is much stronger and explicit than what is found in Zechariah’s visions. Garrick V. Allen argues that early Jewish traditions (Tg. Neb.) conflate Zechariah’s riders with the living creatures of Ezek. 158 as well as the punishing angels who attack Sennacherib’s army (T. Adam 4:6–7).59 John, like other interpreters, is not averse to the concept of the punishing angels found so prominently in earlier traditions; his riders, like those of Zechariah are directly connected to the throne room in heaven. Unlike most otherworldly creatures of John’s visions, these riders are not described as hybrid beings. Little description is given beyond the varying colors of the horses. However, the fourth horse and rider break the pattern as John recounts, “And I looked and behold a pale green horse and its rider’s

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name was Death, and Hades was following with him” (Rev. 6:8). Like the rest of the horse and rider partnerships the horse’s color is identified, but for the first time the rider is named. The use of “Death” may intentionally recall the LXX translation of pestilence in the Old Testament as found in Ezek. 14:21.60 However, even more peculiar is that another character named Hades follows behind the equestrian pair. G. R. Beasley-Murray’s description is worth quoting, “Hades surely follows on foot, grimly gathering in the victims of pestilence.”61 Similarly, artists have been attentive to the monstrosity of this shadow figure, taking pains to flesh it out. It is portrayed as a Hellmouth swallowing people whole—often personified as a dragon or a canine with its jaws wide open.62 This aligns well with both Jewish and Greek traditions that view Hades as both a location and a deity. The hybrid nature of these beings is not explicit but the inability to characterize them points again to their otherness and refusal to adhere to predetermined categories. These riders move between the divine and earthly worlds. It is not clear from where these riders and their horses originate. At this point in the visions, the abyss is locked and the text is not forthcoming on their provenance. In Zechariah, its riders are found in the mĕtsullah, a transitional and liminal space just on the edges of the divine world.63 John’s living creatures simply call the riders into being (Rev. 6:1-8), making it not unlikely that they originate from a heavenly location. There is no hint of their movement up from the abyss as is the case with the locusts (Rev. 9:3–11). Instead, they are the means through which God’s judgment moves from the throne room to the earth. Each of their calamities is designed to destabilize the world, shaking the borders that defined John’s audience. The overwhelming picture of God in the Apocalypse is a static figure upon the throne and yet whose reach extends to all corners of the world through a divine and terrible army. A FALLING STAR & ABADDON (REV. 9:1–11) John has witnessed numerous angels blowing their trumpets announcing cosmic judgments. After hearing the fifth trumpet, John sees a star falling from heaven to earth (Rev. 9:1). The term star is used frequently to denote cosmic figures (Judg. 5:20; Job 38:7; Dan. 8:10) and this being is given a key to open the shaft of the bottomless pit (Rev. 9:2). The identity of this creature is uncertain, though some see it as a demonic being or a fallen angel.64 However, the more likely interpretation is that this star is an angel sanctioned to open the abyss similar to the angel of Rev. 20:1 who locks the Dragon in the pit.65 This region of the underworld is mentioned elsewhere in the New Testament, though their understandings of it are not necessarily uniform (Luke 8:31; Rom. 10:7). Despite the popular picture of Satan presiding over the netherworld,

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many traditions show the opposite, in that heavenly beings assume control over these regions.66 In The Book of Watchers, rebellious angels like Asael and Shemihazah are confined to various places of punishment by Raphael and Michael (1 En. 10:4–8, 11–15). Moreover, the New Testament also reflects these traditions of punishing and binding angels in Tartarus or locales of darkness (Jude 6; 2 Pet. 2:4).67 These places of punishment are not homogeneous, as some are simply deep pits while others are filled with smoke and fire (1 En. 21:1, 7; 22:1–14). Scholars have observed the close similarities between the Dragon/Satan’s confinement to the abyss and later defeat in the lake of fire (Rev. 20:1–3; 10) to traditions in 1 Enoch.68 Finally, in Rev. 14 angels are again associated with places of punishment as they preside over the torment of those who have worshipped the beast and its image. With a loud voice, the angel cries, “they also will drink the wine of God’s wrath, undiluted in the cup of his anger, and they will be tormented with fire and sulphur before the holy angels and before the Lamb” (Rev. 14:10). This prevalence of angelic beings in the netherworld both in Revelation and other Second Temple traditions supports the identification of the angel of Rev. 9:1 as a sanctioned angel from heaven rather than a demonic being. Once the door to the abyss is unlocked, it unleashes the dreaded horde of locusts and their king, known as “the angel of the bottomless pit,” who emerges. The text provides a Hebrew name, Abaddon meaning “Destruction,” and a Greek one, Apollyon translated as “Destroyer” (Rev. 9:11). Beale links these names with Sheol and also Belial who is associated with the pit and abyss, arguing for a satanic identity.69 However, other traditions of destroying angels employed by God are also strong contenders for consideration. These include the destroyer sent by God to kill the firstborn of the Egyptians (Exod. 12:12–13, 23), a group of destroying angels that aided with the plagues (Ps. 78:49), and the angel of the Lord that struck down the Assyrian army (2 Kgs. 19). Karin Schöpflin also notes the ambiguity of the term “destroyers” that is used for angelic agents commissioned by God (Ezek. 9:1–10:7) or human armies like the Babylonians (Jer. 22:7). Thus, this angel of the pit known as “Destruction” or “Destroyer” may stem from any number of traditions that link the destroyer with God rather than the demonic. The relationship of this being to God is problematic for some scholars and many seek to explain how God is associated with such a malevolent creature. Caird’s solution is to argue for God’s role as passively allowing “evil to be evil’s own destruction.”70 Beale is more emphatic in understanding the king of the locusts as either the devil or a demonic substitute.71 Scholars that identify Abaddon as demonic must account for its surprising alignment of divine purposes.72 A number of scholars equate Abaddon with Satan, but this identification sets up a binary between the “Creator” and the “Destroyer.” Thus, Koester argues, “The king of the locusts is the angel of the abyss. If

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God is the Creator (4:11; 10:6; 14:7), his opposite is called Destruction and Destroyer, names that probably refer to Satan.”73 This binary assumes the Destroyer is in opposition to God rather than in league with the heavenly realm as found in the Hebrew Bible (Exod. 12:23; 2 Sam. 24:16; 1 Chr. 21:15). In fact, the Exodus narrative that outlines the actions of the destroyer against the Egyptians attributes the horror to God multiple times and only once is the destroyer mentioned (Exod. 12:23). This is a picture of the divine army at work with God leading the charge, who gives orders to hold back the punishing agents when necessary.74 There is no need to set up a boundary between God and the king of locusts in Revelation, as the text makes no mention that this angel is in league with the Dragon and it does not stand in the way of God’s control over the locusts. There is no doubt that these forces are monstrous, but their supposed demonic character is not the issue. Unlike the Dragon and the beasts, Abaddon and the locusts work on behalf of God and the Lamb, not as opponents but agents, no matter their dangerous and threatening character. THE LOCUSTS (REV. 9:3–11) Commentators are generally in agreement that the locusts are a demonic horde that unleash terror on the earth.75 The sheer number of locusts is horrific as they overwhelm humanity in their ability to torture them repeatedly for five months (Rev. 9:3–6). Unlike earthly locusts, these creatures are given specific orders to limit their attack to those persons missing the seal of God, leaving all vegetation alone. This infestation of terrifying creatures, known as massification, is a common feature of modern-day horror films and literature.76 Noel Carroll notes their horrific effect, “These swarms of crawling things, grouped for an ultimate showdown with humanity, are, of course, really fantastical beings, invested with strategic abilities, virtual invulnerability, a hankering for human flesh, and often mutated powers unknown to present-day biological science.”77 Although Carroll is describing modern movies like Kingdom of the Spiders or Kiss of the Tarantulas, his description fits well with the locusts of John’s Apocalypse. These masses of creatures are typically established phobic entities (i.e., spiders, snakes) and locusts already have a rich though terrifying biblical history for John’s audience. The locusts from the eighth plague against the Egyptians were legendary as the text states, “never had there been such locusts before, nor ever again” (Exod. 10:14). In the book of Joel, locusts make another appearance as part of the army of God whose devastation is terrible as they are depicted as a charging cavalry overwhelming the city (Joel 2). In both of these traditions, the locusts are deployed by God for judgment, first against the Egyptians and secondly

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against Judah and Jerusalem. They are a familiar image of destruction and judgment authorized by the heavenly realm. Besides the phenomenon of massification, John has another means of emphasizing the monstrosity of the locusts. They are not ordinary insects but hybrid creatures designed to terrify: And the appearance of the locusts were like horses equipped for battle. Upon their heads were something like gold crowns and their faces were like humans. And they had hair like women’s hair, and their teeth like lion’s teeth. And they had breastplates like iron breastplates, and the sound of their wings was like the sound of chariots with many horses running to battle. They have tails like scorpions, with stings, and in their tails have the power to harm people for five months. (Rev. 9:7–11)

John draws on the impressive biblical imagery of Joel’s unstoppable and horrific war-horse locusts. The reaction of those facing these locusts reveals their terror, “before them peoples writhe in anguish, all faces grow pale” (Joel 2:6). In Rev. 9, John has combined the features of Joel’s locust-horses with multiple layers of diverse hybrid images, they are true fusion monsters. First, the locusts have faces like humans and supposedly long hair as implied by the comparison to women. And yet, the familiarity of their human faces is distorted by their lion-like teeth, again emphasizing the mouth of the monster that threatens to consume. Finally, their tails are like those of scorpions with the power to sting, one of their chief offensive weapons, that brings untold misery to the people (Rev. 9:10). These creatures are terrifying but also repulsive in their combination of the animal and human components. Their human faces imply a measure of autonomy and rational thought that moves these creatures beyond automatons. Hybridity is a key feature that scholars have adopted to describe what they consider to be the evil or demonic creatures of the book of Revelation.78 When describing the locusts of Rev. 9, James L. Resseguie focuses on their unnaturalness and ugliness as they have humanlike hair but the bodies of horses. This for him demonstrates that hybrid creatures are “a perversion of natural order.”79 Koester echoes these sentiments, noting that hybrid forms such as the locusts are “a repulsive confusion of elements.”80 The composite body of the monster provokes disgust and revulsion, signifying for these interpreters its identification as demonic, evil, and chaotic. And yet, surprisingly the same scholars view the hybrid natures of other divine creatures as positive and an example of the harmony of God’s creative acts. Resseguie states, “Whereas the demonic creatures signify God’s creation in total rebellion from its creator, the four living creatures symbolize God’s creation in complete harmony with its creator.”81 Koester similarly argues that the composite nature of the

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living creatures act as prime examples of “created order.”82 Thus, hybridity appears to mean something different depending on how you have classified the nature of the divine being in question. This notion of hybridity is not relegated to Revelation but also finds similar reception in discussions of apocalypses. Daniel L. Smith-Christopher, in his analysis of mixed creatures in apocalyptic literature, comes to a similar conclusion as Koester: Finally, is it wandering too far under the influence of postcolonial and Monster Theory to wonder if mixed creatures suggest phenomena literally opposed to God’s creation and authority? Is this why they are monstrous? God created regularity and discrete creatures—and we have seen that peace is even represented on occasion as these same discrete creatures returning to an Eden-like created coexistence. Mixing is thus thought to be “counter-creational?” Perhaps it is a threat because it is a violation. This may further suggest why it is contrasted against other amazing creatures in the same literature, but creatures that are on “our side.” However, “our” creatures are never mixed, they simply display features of value like precious stones, or power, like fire!83

Smith-Christopher’s argument that “‘our’ creatures are never mixed” is a difficult one to reconcile in light of the living creatures in Ezekiel and Revelation. He does note the living creatures of Ezekiel and ponders their threatening potential; however, he downplays their identification as monster since the term (ḥayyot) or “living things” is employed. Like other scholars, he maintains a strict division between creatures like the cherubim and those that represent opposing forces, despite their mutual hybrid appearances. This division between cosmic creatures is an artificial one that regards hybridity differently whether one has already deemed a creature good or evil. Scholars’ reactions to the repulsiveness of the locusts influences their interpretation of the function of these creatures. The equivalence of demonic with evil is problematic in the ancient world as these beings were more commonly understood as a lower deity or demigod. In the Hebrew Bible, all divine creatures belong under the rubric of the divine council, whether they act benevolently or malevolently.84 However, a significant development in demonology during the Second Temple Period is that some demigods begin to act as “free agents” outside the purview of God’s council.85 According to Reynolds, they are not only “rogue demi-gods” but become part of an alternate world order opposed to God.86 The development of an independent entity known as Satan is also indicative of this trend.87 This dualistic worldview is central to apocalypses like Revelation where good and evil are more clearly defined. However, it is not clear if these so-called “demonic” locusts are in fact demons especially since John never uses that terminology. The picture presented by John is not a scene of rebellion or mass chaos as

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demonic agents rise up from the abyss to unleash evil upon the world without restraint. Instead, one finds the opposite, and like any well-disciplined army, the locusts are given specific commands to follow (Rev. 9:3–6). Joseph L. Trafton observes three separate moments in which God’s authority over these creatures is emphasized through the use of divine passives: (1) they are given power like that of scorpions, (2) they are restricted in harming only those without the seal of God, and (3) they can only torture for five months without killing.88 These commands are issued from the divine throne, emphasizing God’s control over all spheres of the divine world, including the abyss. The locusts are indeed monsters that are terrifying and horrific in their appearance. They are designed to threaten, kill, and devour those who are God’s opponents. Nevertheless, they are not mindless creatures who attack indiscriminately but perform as part of a highly regimented attack force. They wear crowns and have a king over them, but John is careful to point out that God’s authority over them is absolute. The specificity of the order not to harm the vegetation is reminiscent of other narratives where God’s punishing agents are restricted in their destructive activities (Ezek. 9:3–11; Job 1–2). This alliance between the divine and the demonic is unpalatable for many, leading to a host of excuses or explanations. Koester suggests the following: The hosts of heaven declare that God is the Creator, but the hordes in the abyss serve the angel known as the Destroyer (9:1, 11). During the trumpet plagues the differences between the Creator and the Destroyer may seem unclear, since the disasters depicted in 8:6-12 are instigated by heavenly powers. But the interruption of judgment after the sixth plague will clarify the nature of the conflict: God’s design is not to destroy the earth, but to destroy the destroyers of the earth (11:18).89

Elsewhere Koester sees a clear binary opposition between the Creator and the Destroyer in John’s Apocalypse, with two armies that oppose each other.90 Unlike Koester, I propose that there is not such a wide divide between the Creator and the Destroyer and reject the idea that the King of Locusts is equated with Satan. Instead, I would merge these two entities, viewing the activities of the Destroyer as an essential part of the Creator’s work. A HORRIFIC CAVALRY (REV. 9:13–21) John’s visions of terrifying monsters continue as an angel blows the sixth trumpet and a voice from the altar unleashes yet another disastrous judgment (Rev. 9:13). The seer now hears a voice from the golden altar saying, “Release the four angels that are bound at the great river Euphrates” (Rev.

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9:14). The identity of these angels is debated by scholars, though many view them as demonic or fallen beings because they are described as bound.91 Possible support is drawn from 1 En. 10:4 where Raphael binds Asael and casts him into a pit of darkness. However, John’s four angels are not confined to places of punishment as one finds in 1 Enoch. Sean Michael Ryan proposes that John is relying on the LXX reading of Ps. 77:49–50a (Ps. 78, Hebrew) where God calls on a group of evil angels to act as agents of God in the administration of the Exodus plagues.92 The Hebrew tradition would view them as destroying angels rather than evil angels, according closely to other punishing angels in the Hebrew Bible. This understanding fits well with the above discussion of the locusts acting as punishing agents, in line with traditions from Joel and Ezekiel. In Rev. 9, once these angels are released from their bonds, they unleash innumerable terrifying forces upon the earth: And the number of the mounted troops was two hundred million, I heard their number. And thus, I saw the horses in the vision and the riders had breastplates of fiery red, dark blue and sulphurous yellow. And the heads of the horses were like the heads of lions and out of their mouths came forth fire and smoke and sulphur. From these three plagues a third of humankind was killed, from the fire and smoke and sulphur coming out of their mouths. For the power of the horses is in their mouths and in their tails, for their tails were like serpents having heads and with them they wound. (Rev. 9:16–19)

Once released by the angels, this horde of cosmic cavalry descends upon humanity, killing one-third of the people. Regardless of the identity of the four angels, commentators are typically united in viewing this terrifying cavalry as demonic in nature.93 The riders themselves are barely described beyond the mention of their breastplates of varying colors. It is the horses that receive the most attention both for their appearance and their destructive capabilities. These are no ordinary horses, but hybrid creatures that have the bodies of a horse, the head of a lion, and tails with multiple serpent heads (Rev. 9:17). And like a dragon, they breathe out fire, smoke, and sulfur from their mouths resulting in plagues. This type of creature resembles the GrecoRoman chimera, a mixed creature, with the head of a lion, body of a goat, and the tail of a dragon or serpent (Apollodorus, Bibliotheca, 2.3.2; Homer, Il. 6.152-95; Hesiod, Theog. 319-24).94 It is not surprising that scholars have called them a “demonic cavalry”95 or “ungodly spiritual forces.”96 As with the locusts, the identification with the demonic rests partially upon their hybrid and grotesque appearance.97 Moreover, Beale argues that the association of fire and sulfur is used elsewhere for other negative figures like idolaters (Rev. 14:10; 21:8), the Dragon, the beast, and the false prophet (Rev. 19:20; 20:10). However, as

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Beale himself observes, fire, sulfur, and smoke are also common images describing God’s judgment (Gen. 19:24, 28; Deut. 29:23; 2 Sam. 22:9; Isa. 34:9–10; Ezek. 38:22).98 It should be noted that the monstrous cavalry are not punished like the idolaters, Dragon, or beasts, but instead they bring God’s judgment through their destructive actions. Thus, the association of fire and sulfur should not figure as an automatic descriptor of the moral character of cosmic beings, as it is not an uncommon trait for creatures deemed as either malevolent or benevolent. Finally, a further argument for associating these horses with the demonic arises over the presence of their serpentine tails that inflict harm.99 Beale argues, “The tacit intention is to identify the beastly horses with Satan himself, who is known in the Apocalypse as ‘the Serpent’.”100 Part of his argument hinges on the exclusive use of serpent language for Satan or the Dragon in the Apocalypse (Rev. 12:9, 14–15; 20:2). However, it is not accurate to assume serpentine imagery would automatically equal evil or demonic. According to James H. Charlesworth, the snake as a positive symbol in the ancient world and in Jewish tradition is often underappreciated.101 Examples include the seraphim (Isa. 6:2, 6), snakes as guardians (Gen. 49:17), and as a healing symbol (Num. 21; Wis. 15:5–6; John 3:14–15). Most relevant to the present discussion is his assertion that snakes were used as messengers of God’s divine judgment in the Hebrew Bible.102 This judgment could come upon Israel (Amos 9:3) or against their enemies (Isa. 14:29), but in each case the serpent acts as God’s agent. There is no doubt that these monstrous horses in John’s Apocalypse are terrifying creatures whose natural inclination is to destroy, but John firmly positions them as part of God’s divine retinue. THE TWO WITNESSES (REV. 11:1–14) I have argued in this chapter that ambiguous divine figures in John’s Apocalypse should not be categorized as demonic but as monstrous agents. Though some emerge from the abyss, their loyalty is not to the Dragon and the beasts but instead they act as part of God’s terrifying army. I end my examination of monstrous creatures with the two witnesses, characters ordinarily understood as benevolent by interpreters, by deliberately juxtaposing them with the previous less favored entities. As was the case with the living creatures of Rev. 4–5, these two witnesses are just as hybrid and liminal as the other cosmic entities examined to date. In chapter 11, the seer John is told to measure the temple and sees two witnesses who prophesy for 1,260 days. These witnesses are understood as the servants of God, but a closer examination of their appearance and behavior reveals strong affinities with other monstrous creatures. John uses metaphoric language that describes

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these witnesses as the two olive trees and the two lampstands adapted from Zechariah’s earlier vision (Zech. 4).103 Moreover, he merges inanimate objects and anthropomorphic language to produce these otherworldly figures. Scholars rightfully argue that these inanimate images are metaphorical, but all of John’s imagery including that for the Dragon and beasts, is highly symbolic. Thus, it is appropriate to consider how John metaphorically conceives of these witnesses as hybrid bodies that defy normal categories. John refrains from describing their physical appearance beyond their apparel of sackcloth (Rev. 11:3), the emphasis on their mouths (Rev. 11:5), their bodies that are susceptible to the beast (Rev. 11:9), and their ability to stand upright (Rev. 11:11). Here, John has moved from the inanimate symbols to describing them as human beings. However, their activities and abilities reveal their otherworldly and liminal natures that have little to do with ordinary mortals. There is debate whether these witnesses should be interpreted as individual prophets104 or as representing the churches or church corporate.105 Without further information, it is impossible to point to their exact identities, but they likely are recast as eschatological figures like Moses and Elijah who perform similar signs. Against an understanding that they represent the churches (or assemblies of Asia Minor), I would agree with the assessment that their otherworldly powers prohibit this view.106 These witnesses possess the following extraordinary abilities against their adversaries: (1) deadly fire issues from their mouths, (2) they can cause droughts, (3) the ability to turn water into blood, and (4) the power to strike the earth with plagues at their discretion. An unparalleled level of power is given to these witnesses which only underscores the level of threat they possess. Scholars argue that the fire coming from their mouths is metaphorical for prophetic activity, drawing links to Moses (Exod. 9:23), Elijah (1 Kgs. 18; 2 Kgs. 1:9–12; Sir. 48:1), Jeremiah (Jer. 5:14), or the Messiah (4 Ezra 13:10, 37–38).107 However, as Robert H. Mounce observes, “Fire-breathing prophets would not seem strange in the bizarre world of apocalyptic imagery.”108 The examples of Elijah and Moses differ from the activity of John’s witnesses as they call fire from heaven rather than producing it from within themselves. Moreover, the example from Jeremiah is explicitly figurative as it represents prophetic speech, but here the two witnesses are portrayed similarly to Moses and Elijah and their association with real fire.109 Like other monsters already discussed, the mouth is the focus of destructive activity that threatens to consume its opponents.110 These witnesses, not dissimilar to dragons, are pictured as spewing fire from their mouths even if it is meant metaphorically.111 Scholars have noted the similarities of the witnesses to other divine agents like the horrific calvary, especially their firebreathing abilities. In fact, one finds the similar phrasing “fire proceeds from their mouth” also occurs in 9:17–18 for the monstrous horses, though with the addition of smoke and brimstone.112 The abilities of the witnesses place

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them alongside other cosmic creatures that also torment the inhabitants of the earth. Despite their extraordinary powers, the witnesses are susceptible to the beast who defeats them. In this tale of war, the witnesses are conquered and vanquished by the beast that rises from the abyss (Rev. 11:7). Their bodies are made into a spectacle as they lie in the street for three and a half days. The people deny them their customary burial rites, a sign of shame and disgrace in a culture where proximity between the living and dead was closely controlled (Num. 19:11–13).113 Through the celebratory reactions of the inhabitants of the earth, John portrays the true horror and threat inflicted by the witnesses. Like their literary ancestors, Moses and Elijah, these witnesses are also not bound to normative rules of life and death. They too experience an ascent to heaven (Rev. 11:12) after hearing a voice calling to them.114 However, their experience differs as they not only cross the liminal boundary between earth and heaven but more importantly between the living and the dead. John clearly states that these witnesses have been dead for multiple days before they are reanimated by the breath of God. In a scene reminiscent of a horror movie, these decaying bodies rise in the street to the amazement and terror of the people (Rev. 11:11). Like most monsters, these witnesses do not stay dead for long but come back to haunt their victims, provoking a reaction of terror (Rev. 11:11). Tina Pippin argues that the undead are found throughout the pages of the New Testament, including the two witnesses of Revelation in this group. Moreover, she also connects empire and zombies, stating “Zombies also emerge from individual and collective fear. Zombies represent bodily response to physical trauma—war, economic depression, genocide.”115 The witnesses act as a model for the assemblies of Asia Minor that have accepted John’s vision of the world resisting accommodation with Rome.116 The death of the witnesses is used as evidence of the threat of empire and John strategically aligns his audience with the plight of the witnesses by “arousing feelings of emulation.”117 John showcases the reactions of two groups who witness the resurrection of the witnesses: the enemies that watch them (Rev. 11:12) and the rest that react in terror and glorify God (Rev. 11:13). The fate of the two witnesses serves as a model for how to live under empire and how to respond in the face of resistance. John’s positive portrayal of the witnesses has served to obscure their similarities to other monstrous beings, allowing interpreters to exclude them from consideration with other hybrid and liminal entities. CONCLUSION This chapter takes seriously the repeated experiences of fear when meeting divine beings displayed throughout the Hebrew Bible and the New

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Testament. It is almost comical to hear the phrase “do not fear” from the divine being to the human recipient, whether this is Daniel or a shepherd outside of Bethlehem, as it does little to reassure. Yet, angelic beings continue to be domesticated even in Revelation scholarship that treats their hybridity as positive, though elsewhere such characteristics are viewed as demonic and grotesque. Rilke’s statement “Every angel is terrible” is important to remember especially as he considers the paradoxical quality of the divine as both terrible and beautiful simultaneously.118 This chapter has sought to readjust the lens through which divine beings are analyzed especially with regard to their fantastic bodies. Though hybrid beings like the locusts and composite cavalry are often abjected by scholars due to their horrific biologies, I consider them a key part of the terrible divine army commissioned by the throne room. These composite beings are segregated from other familiar and “safer” entities like the four living creatures and the two witnesses; however, when one places them side by side, an uncanny resemblance is apparent. Thus, one discovers that God’s divine army is a motley crew, full of terrible and horrific beasts. Examining all divine creatures as monstrous results in a restructuring of expectations, aligning creatures in new and unsettling ways. The choice of cosmic entities in this chapter is not exhaustive, but the deliberate bookending of “good” beings was an intentional juxtaposition. The living creatures and the two witnesses should not be divorced from the other cosmic characters examined as they are monstrous in their own right. The divine army that emerges from John’s Apocalypse is composed of a variety of terrifying beings including those in heaven and in the abyss. The labels of evil and demonic as typically applied to such cosmic beings create artificial boundaries not intended by the author and clouds readers’ vision of the true nature of God’s army. NOTES 1. Rainer Maria Rilke, Duino Elegies, trans. David Young (New York: W.W. Norton, 2006), 25. 2. This is exemplified in the work of Resseguie who argues for neat divisions between cosmic characters based on their geographical origins (James L. Resseguie, Revelation Unsealed: A Narrative Critical Approach to John’s Apocalypse, Biblical Interpretation Series 32 [Leiden: Brill, 1998], 103). 3. Rilke, Duino Elegies, 25. 4. Tremper Longman III, “The Divine Warrior: The New Testament Use of an Old Testament Motif,” The Westminster Theological Journal 44, no. 2 (1982): 290–307. 5. Adela Yarbro Collins, The Combat Myth in the Book of Revelation (Missoula: Scholars Press, 1976); David Andrew Thomas, Revelation 19 in Historical and Mythological Context, Studies in Biblical Literature 118 (New York: Peter Lang, 2008).

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6. Though they allude to the opening of the seals in this divine war, Tremper Longman III and Daniel G. Reid pass over the activity of the four riders, Abaddon, locusts, and cavalry (Tremper Longman III and Daniel G. Reid, God Is a Warrior, Studies in Old Testament Biblical Theology [Grand Rapids: Zondervan Academic, 2010], 182). 7. Other cosmic beings that could be considered monstrous include various angels (esp. colossal angel of Rev. 10), the eagle (Rev. 8:13), and the carrion birds (Rev. 19:17, 21). 8. John does call the frogs who emerge from the mouths of the Dragon, beasts and false prophet “unclean spirits” who are the spirits of demons (Rev. 16:13–14). This label is not applied to other cosmic creatures with the exception of Woman Babylon who is said to have become a haunt of demons (Rev. 18:2). 9. The English word “angel” is derived from the LXX aggelos used to translate the Hebrew word mal’āk meaning “messenger.” Already in the LXX, the term aggelos was increasingly used more generically for all divine beings such as the bene elohim (Gen. 6:2) and elohim (Ps. 8:6). For more examples, see Carol A. Newsom, “Angels: Old Testament,” in Anchor Bible Dictionary, ed. D. N. Freedman, vol. I (New York: Doubleday, 1992), 248. 10. Lowell K. Handy, Among the Host of Heaven: The Syro-Palestinian Pantheon as Bureaucracy (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 1994), 152–54. In the Ugaritic materials, messengers were considered divine beings as evidenced by their designation as (ilm) meaning “gods” as in KTU 1.3 III 32 (Lowell K. Handy, “Dissenting Deities or Obedient Angels: Divine Hierarchies in Ugarit and the Bible,” Biblical Research 35 [1990]: 25). For an examination of the different tiers of the divine council, see Ellen White, Yahweh’s Council: Its Structure and Membership, Forschungen zum Alten Testament 2, Reihe 65 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2014). 11. Lena-Sofia Tiemeyer, “Zechariah’s Spies and Ezekiel’s Cherubim,” in Tradition in Transition: Haggai and Zechariah 1-8 in the Trajectory of Hebrew Theology (New York: T&T Clark, 2008), 108. 12. Karin Schöpflin, “YHWH’s Agents of Doom: The Punishing Function of Angels in Post-Exilic Writings of the Old Testament,” in Angels: The Concept of Celestial Beings—Origins, Development and Reception, ed. F.W. Reiterer, Tobias Nicklas, and Karin Schöpflin, Deuterocanonical and Cognate Literature (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2007), 125–37. 13. Esther J. Hamori, “When Gods Were Men”: The Embodied God in Biblical and Near Eastern Literature, Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 384 (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2008), 120. 14. Bennie H. Reynolds III, “A Dwelling Place of Demons: Demonology and Apocalypticism in the Dead Sea Scrolls,” in Apocalyptic Thinking in Early Judaism: Engaging with John Collins’ The Apocalyptic Imagination, ed. Sidnie White Crawford, Cecilia Wassen, and Bennie H. Reynolds III (Leiden: Brill, 2018), 27. 15. Handy, Among the Host of Heaven, 166–67. 16. Manfred Hutter, “Demons and Benevolent Spirits in the Ancient Near East: A Phenomenological Overview,” in Angels: The Concept of Celestial Beings—Origins,

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Development and Reception, ed. F.W. Reiterer and K. Schöpflin, Deuterocanonical and Cognate Literature (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2007), 21. 17. Hutter, “Demons and Benevolent Spirits in the Ancient Near East: A Phenomenological Overview,” 21. 18. Reynolds III, “A Dwelling Place of Demons,” 31–32. 19. P. Alexander, “The Demonology of the Dead Sea Scrolls,” in The Dead Sea Scrolls after Fifty Years: A Comprehensive Assessment, ed. Peter W. Flint and James C. VanderKam (Leiden: Brill, 1999), 339. 20. Daniel Smith-Christopher notes, “positive figures are rarely mixed creatures” (Daniel L. Smith-Christopher, “A Postcolonial Reading of Apocalyptic Literature,” in The Oxford Handbook of Apocalyptic Literature, ed. John J. Collins [Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014], 188). 21. M. Eugene Boring, Revelation, Interpretation (Louisville: John Knox Press, 1989), 107; G. K. Beale, The Book of Revelation: A Commentary on the Greek Text, New International Greek Testament Commentary (Grand Rapids: W. B. Eerdmans, 1999), 329–30; Craig R. Koester, Revelation: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary, Anchor Yale Bible 38A (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2014), 369. 22. Peter R. Carrell, Jesus and the Angels: Angelology and Christology in the Apocalypse of John, Society for New Testament Studies Monograph Series 95 (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 141; David E. Aune, Revelation 1-5, Word Biblical Commentary 52A (Dallas: Word, 1997), 298. 23. Aune, Revelation 1-5, 301. 24. Carrell, Jesus and the Angels, 142. 25. David J. Halperin, The Faces of the Chariot: Early Jewish Responses to Ezekiel’s Vision, Texte und Studien zum Antiken Judentum 16 (Tübingen: Mohr, 1988), 90. 26. Halperin, 91. Halperin also argues that John’s living creatures are a combination of three angelic orders: the cherubim, seraphim, and ophannim. 27. William Foxwell Albright, “What Were the Cherubim?,” The Biblical Archaeologist 1, no. 1 (February 1938): 2. 28. Carrell, Jesus and the Angels, 142–43; Beale, The Book of Revelation, 329; Robert G. Hall, “Living Creatures in the Midst of the Throne: Another Look at Revelation 4:6,” New Testament Studies 36, no. 4 (October 1990): 609–13. 29. Carrell, Jesus and the Angels, 144; Beale, The Book of Revelation, 328. 30. Hall, “Living Creatures in the Midst of the Throne,” 612. 31. Darrell D. Hannah, “Of Cherubim and the Divine Throne: Rev 5.6 in Context,” New Testament Studies 49, no. 4 (October 2003): 530–31. 32. Hannah, “Of Cherubim and the Divine Throne: Rev 5.6 in Context,” 535–36. Moreover, Hannah explores archaeological evidence in addition to other Second Temple texts to demonstrate an established tradition of the cherubim as a living part of the throne. 33. Hannah, “Of Cherubim and the Divine Throne: Rev 5.6 in Context,” 537. 34. The Ishtar gates are an excellent example where dragons, lions, and bulls are used protectively (Chikako E. Watanabe, “The Symbolic Role of Animals in

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Babylon: A Contextual Approach to the Lion, the Bull and the Mušḫuššu,” IRAQ 77 [December 2015]: 215–24). 35. Jeffrey Jerome Cohen, “Monster Culture (Seven Theses),” in Monster Theory: Reading Culture, ed. Jeffrey Jerome Cohen (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1996), 13. 36. Alice Wood, Of Wings and Wheels: A Synthetic Study of the Biblical Cherubim, Beihefte zur Zeitschrift für die alttestamentliche Wissenschaft 385 (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2008), 81. 37. Stephen L. Cook, “Cosmos, Kabod, and Cherub: Ontological and Epistemological Hierarchy in Ezekiel,” in Ezekiel’s Hierarchical World: Wrestling with a Tiered Reality (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2004), 184. See also Halperin, The Faces of the Chariot, 92. 38. Cook, “Cosmos, Kabod, and Cherub,” 184. 39. Tiemeyer, “Zechariah’s Spies and Ezekiel’s Cherubim,” 111. 40. Rudolf Otto, The Idea of the Holy (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1958), 26. 41. Raanan Eichler, “Cherub: A History of Interpretation,” Biblica 96, no. 1 (2015): 36. 42. Halperin, The Faces of the Chariot, 92. 43. I disagree with Koester’s reading of the cherubim’s hybridity as a positive sign while the composite nature of the locusts is deemed negative and “ghoulish” (Koester, Revelation, 369). 44. Natasha O’Hear and Anthony O’Hear, Picturing the Apocalypse: The Book of Revelation in the Arts over Two Millennia (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015), 83–84. 45. O’Hear and O’Hear, Picturing the Apocalypse, 81. 46. O’Hear and O’Hear, Picturing the Apocalypse, 73. 47. G. B. Caird, A Commentary on the Revelation of St. John the Divine, Black’s New Testament Commentaries (London: Black, 1966), 81; Boring, Revelation, 124; Beale, The Book of Revelation, 377–78; James L. Resseguie, The Revelation of John: A Narrative Commentary (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2009), 126–27. 48. Caird, A Commentary on the Revelation of St. John the Divine, 81. 49. Caird, A Commentary on the Revelation of St. John the Divine, 83. 50. Caird, A Commentary on the Revelation of St. John the Divine, 83. 51. Koester, Revelation, 409. 52. Beale, The Book of Revelation, 374. 53. Beale, 374; David E. Aune, Revelation 6-16, Word Biblical Commentary 52B (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 1998), 380. 54. Beale, The Book of Revelation, 374. 55. Aune, Revelation 6-16, 389, 394–95, 528–29. 56. Beale, The Book of Revelation, 377. 57. Aune, Revelation 6-16, 389. 58. Garrick V. Allen, “Zechariah’s Horse Visions and Angelic Intermediaries: Translation, Allusion, and Transmission in Early Judaism,” The Catholic Biblical Quarterly 79, no. 2 (April 2017): 236–37. See also Tiemeyer, “Zechariah’s Spies and Ezekiel’s Cherubim.”

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59. Allen, “Zechariah’s Horse Visions and Angelic Intermediaries,” 238–39. 60. G. R. Beasley-Murray, The Book of Revelation, New Century Bible (London: Oliphants, 1974), 133–34. 61. Beasley-Murray, The Book of Revelation, 134. 62. This is present in Albrecht Dürer’s engraving of The Four Horsemen (1498) as well as the Angers Apocalypse Tapestry (c. 1373–80). 63. Heather Macumber, Angelic Intermediaries: The Development of a Revelatory Tradition (PhD diss.: University of St. Michael’s College, 2012), 176–78. 64. Caird, A Commentary on the Revelation of St. John the Divine; Boring, Revelation, 136–37; Beale, The Book of Revelation, 491–93; Rodney Lawrence Thomas, Magical Motifs in the Book of Revelation, T&T Clark Library of Biblical Studies (London: T&T Clark, 2010), 95. 65. Koester, Revelation, 455. 66. Kelley Coblentz Bautch, “Heavenly Beings Brought Low: A Study of Angels and the Netherworld,” in Angels: The Concept of Celestial Beings—Origins, Development and Reception, ed. F.W. Reiterer, Tobias Nicklas, and K. Schöpflin, Deuterocanonical and Cognate Literature (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2007), 472. 67. Bautch, “Heavenly Beings Brought Low: A Study of Angels and the Netherworld,” 465. 68. David E. Aune, Revelation 17-22, Word Biblical Commentary 52C (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 1998), 1078–79; Bautch, “Heavenly Beings Brought Low,” 466. 69. Beale, The Book of Revelation, 503. 70. Caird, A Commentary on the Revelation of St. John the Divine, 118; Matthias Reinhard Hoffmann, The Destroyer and the Lamb: The Relationship Between Angelomorphic and Lamb Christology in the Book of Revelation, Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen zum Neuen Testament 2. Reihe 203 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2005), 126–27. 71. Beale, The Book of Revelation, 503. 72. Beale, The Book of Revelation, 493. 73. Koester, Revelation, 464. 74. For later understandings of this tradition, see Ps. 78:49; 1 En. 53:3; 56:1. 75. Caird, A Commentary on the Revelation of St. John the Divine, 120; BeasleyMurray, The Book of Revelation, 1974; Boring, Revelation, 136–38; Aune, Revelation 6-16, 534–35; Robert H. Mounce, The Book of Revelation, New International Commentary on the New Testament (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998), 195–96; Beale, The Book of Revelation, 493–502; Koester, Revelation, 463. 76. Noel Carroll, The Philosophy of Horror: Or, Paradoxes of the Heart (New York: Routledge, 2003), 50–51. 77. Carroll, The Philosophy of Horror, 50. 78. Resseguie, Revelation Unsealed, 197. 79. Resseguie, Revelation Unsealed, 117. 80. Koester, Revelation, 464. 81. Resseguie, Revelation Unsealed, 130. 82. Boring, Revelation, 107. 83. Smith-Christopher, “A Postcolonial Reading of Apocalyptic Literature,” 195.

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84. Handy, Among the Host of Heaven, 166–67. 85. Reynolds III, “A Dwelling Place of Demons,” 32. 86. Reynolds III, “A Dwelling Place of Demons,” 35. 87. For the development of Satan in the Second Temple Period, see T. J. Wray and Gregory Mobley, The Birth of Satan: Tracing the Devil’s Biblical Roots (New York: Palgrave, 2005). 88. Joseph L. Trafton, Reading Revelation: A Literary and Theological Commentary (Macon: Smyth & Helwys, 2005), 96. 89. Koester, Revelation, 463. 90. Koester, Revelation, 464. 91. Earlier in Rev. 7:1, John saw four angels holding back the winds at the four corners of the earth, but it is not clear what happened to those beings. For scholars who view the angels of 9:14 as demonic in nature, see Aune, Revelation 6-16, 536; Beale, The Book of Revelation, 506; Koester, Revelation, 466. 92. Sean Michael Ryan, Hearing at the Boundaries of Vision: Education Informing Cosmology in Revelation 9, Library of New Testament Studies 448 (London: T&T Clark, 2012), 112. 93. Boring, Revelation, 138; Aune, Revelation 6-16, 539; Beale, The Book of Revelation, 511; Koester, Revelation, 471–73. 94. Aune, Revelation 6-16, 539; Koester, Revelation, 467. 95. Boring, Revelation, 138. 96. Beale, The Book of Revelation, 509. 97. Koester argues, “The chaotic combination of traits on the agents of evil fit their role in bringing destruction rather than harmony to the world” (Koester, Revelation, 473). 98. Beale, The Book of Revelation, 511. 99. Beale, The Book of Revelation, 514. 100. Beale, The Book of Revelation, 514. 101. James H. Charlesworth, The Good and Evil Serpent: How a Universal Symbol Became Christianized (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2010), 196–97. See also his extended discussion on pp. 188–351 for the meaning of serpents in the ancient world and the Hebrew Bible. 102. Charlesworth, The Book of Revelation, 247–48. 103. For a discussion of John’s adaptations, see Richard Bauckham, Climax of Prophecy: Studies on the Book of Revelation (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1998), 165; Antoninus King Wai Siew, The War Between the Two Beasts and the Two Witnesses: A Chiastic Reading of Revelation 11:1-14:5, Library of New Testament Studies (London: T&T Clark, 2005), 224–26. 104. These include Enoch, Elijah and Jeremiah, see J. Massyngberde Ford, Revelation, Anchor Bible Commentary 38 (Garden City: Doubleday, 1975), 177–78. 105. Beasley-Murray, The Book of Revelation, 184; Mounce, The Book of Revelation, 223; Beale, The Book of Revelation, 572–75; Koester, Revelation, 505, 507. 106. Siew, The War Between the Two Beasts and the Two Witnesses, 233. 107. Beale, The Book of Revelation, 580; Koester, Revelation, 498–99.

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108. Mounce, The Book of Revelation, 224–25. 109. Siew, The War Between the Two Beasts and the Two Witnesses, 223, fn 52. 110. The mouth is the focus of a diversity of hybrid creatures in John’s Apocalypse including Jesus with a two-edged sword coming from his mouth (Rev. 1:16; 2:16; 19:15, 21), the locusts (Rev. 9:8), the monstrous horses (Rev. 9:17, 19), the Dragon (Rev. 12:4, 15), the beasts and the Dragon that emit frogs from their mouths (Rev. 16:13), and Woman Babylon accused of cannibalism (Rev. 17:6). 111. In fairness, there is no description of the witnesses ever using their powerful abilities. However, after their death by the beast, the people gloat and celebrate “because these two prophets had been a torment to the inhabitants of the earth” (Rev. 11:10). This assumes that in some way the people were afflicted by some of the powers ascribed to the witnesses. 112. Beale, The Book of Revelation, 511. 113. See Michael Gilmour’s discussion of the indignity of the exposed corpse in Michael J. Gilmour, “The Living Word among the Living Dead: Hunting for Zombies in the Pages of the Bible,” in Zombies Are Us: Essays on the Humanity of the Walking Dead, ed. Christopher M. Moreman and Cory James Rushton (Jefferson: McFarland & Co, 2011), 92. 114. Martha Himmelfarb, Ascent to Heaven in Jewish and Christian Apocalypses (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1993). 115. Tina Pippin, “‘Behold, I Stand at the Door and Knock’: The Living Dead and Apocalyptic Dystopia,” The Bible & Critical Theory 6, no. 3 (2010): 40.6. 116. Adela Yarbro Collins, Crisis and Catharsis: The Power of the Apocalypse (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1984), 151; Koester, Revelation, 507. 117. David A. DeSilva, Seeing Things John’s Way: The Rhetoric of the Book of Revelation (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 225. 118. Rilke, Duino Elegies, 25.

Chapter 5

A Familiar Tale The Great Red Dragon

The baby has known the dragon intimately ever since he had an imagination. What the fairy tale provides for him is a St. George to kill the dragon.1 G. K. Chesterton

The dragon as a symbol of menace has a long history in Christian artwork and literature.2 From the legends of St. George to modern fantasy works like Tolkien’s Hobbit, the dragon remains a central monster that lurks on the edges of society.3 As G. K. Chesterton writes, even children set themselves up as opponents to dragons, knowing that they must ultimately be destroyed. In stories, the very presence of a dragon demands a hero like St. George to slay it and restore peace to the kingdom.4 This particular perspective is especially prevalent in Christian traditions that inherit the motif of dragons as the opponents of God that are vanquished by an angelic being.5 In this paradigm, the dragon is a symbol that must be decoded and analyzed as it simultaneously points toward a cosmic perspective but also represents earthly powers and empires.6 Modern dragons are often treated as one-dimensional figures that fit a predefined set of tropes characterized as fire-breathing, gold-hoarding, terrifying beasts that prey upon innocent villagers. Dragons are thus corralled into a fixed category as enemy despite the diversity of these creatures in antiquity as both benevolent and malevolent figures. Scholars have long noted the connection of John’s red Dragon with other ancient Near Eastern and Greco-Roman traditions. A chief aim of this chapter is to peel back modern preconceptions or inherited notions of this monstrous creature. My aim is not to trace the historical development of the dragon traditions as that has already been the focus of some excellent monographs.7 101

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Instead, this chapter examines the figure of the Dragon through the lens of monster theory, as a means of reading the monstrous body to demarcate boundaries in John’s theology and conception of the world. The Dragon serves as the chief opponent of God as he attempts to destabilize the heavenly realm and gain the allegiance of humans. John uses the figure of the Dragon to embody the threatening forces that lie behind the power of the Roman Empire. The Dragon is a potent symbol for John to employ as a warning to his community to avoid any assimilation with the imperial system that he considers antithetical to their allegiance to God. In this chapter, I first examine the figure of the Dragon as a sign before addressing its traditional connection as a creature of chaos. The bulk of the analysis focuses on decoding the monstrous body of the Dragon and its liminal movement across the apocalyptic landscape of Revelation. Though the uncanny similarities between the Dragon and God are often dismissed as parody, it is more likely that this mimicry arises from their similar identities and presentations as monstrous creatures. SIGN OF THE DRAGON The Dragon in Rev. 12:3 is introduced as a sēmeion “sign” along with another portent that appears, the Woman clothed with the sun, moon, and stars (Rev. 12:1). The term sēmeion occurs three times (in the singular) in the Apocalypse (12:1, 3; 15:1).8 John is not concerned to translate the meaning of this sign; however, the seer is quick to decode the Dragon for his audience by identifying it as “that ancient serpent, who is called the Devil and Satan” (Rev. 12:9).9 The related word sēma in Greek traditions is associated with the concept of revelation or insight.10 The monstrous figure invites scrutiny as it is inscribed with the fears, anxieties, and prohibitions of the society that creates it. The term monster itself is understood as a sign or a warning, often highlighted by its otherness and difference. Jeffrey Jerome Cohen notes the ambiguity of the monster that “inhabits the gap between the time of upheaval that created it and the moment into which it is received.”11 He is referencing Derrida’s work on différance where he also examines the ambiguity of the “sign” as a “deferred presence.”12 For Derrida, signs stand in place of what cannot be explained, demonstrated, or envisioned. He further observes, “the circulation of signs defers the moment in which we can encounter the thing itself.”13 This detour is particularly apparent in John’s identification of the Dragon as encapsulated by various figures, including the serpent, the Devil, and Satan (Rev. 12:9). John’s great red Dragon is an amalgamation of received traditions from the ancient world, a referent that points to a recurring historic enemy and yet also addresses their present situation, under Roman occupation. As Derrida notes, “The sign represents the present in its absence.

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It takes the place of the present.”14 Though John does not identify the Dragon with the Roman Empire explicitly, he employs the monster’s body and presence as a sign to be read as a continuation of their colonial experience. ANCIENT DRAGONS: CHAOS CREATURES? As a primary symbol for John, the dragon brings with it a rich backstory that informs the rhetorical force of the Apocalypse. From the perspective of biblical tradition and subsequent scholarship, dragons are read as symbols of chaos generally personifying an invading ruler. In contrast, God is associated with order who fights against the forces of chaos that are represented by the sea or the dragon.15 As previously discussed, this idea of the Chaoskampf, posits a binary of chaos versus order, privileging the God of Israel as the hero in this combat.16 And yet, the notion of God as solely a god of order breaks down when one examines the biblical texts themselves. Jeremiah’s oracle against Babylon adopts the paradigm of empire as dragon but chaos is attributed to both Nebuchadrezzar and the God of Israel. The Babylonian ruler is depicted as the monster that opens its terrible mouth to swallow Israel whole, an image of chaos unleashed (Jer. 51:34). In retaliation, Jeremiah’s oracle against Babylon announces the coming of the divine warrior who arrives with the host of heaven (Jer. 51:14, 33) to wreak destruction upon the foreign invaders. It is not order that comes but further terror and chaos; however, this time it originates from the God of Israel in the form of judgment against Babylon (Jer. 51:41b–43a).17 Jeremiah describes God as a “destroyer” and one that will “smash” nations down to the women, children, and old men (Jer. 51:20–22). Though Nebuchadrezzar is depicted as a dragon that swallows up Israel, the truly terrifying being in Jer. 51 is God who annihilates Babylon completely. Thus, both the dragon and the slayer of monsters are not so very different, as they both bring disaster upon those that oppose them. A key part of the dragon’s identification as a creature of chaos stems from comparisons with the Babylonian goddess Tiamat.18 Traditionally, she is described as chaos personified and thus monstrous. However, recent studies have questioned the assumption that chaos is in fact representative of Tiamat in the Enuma Elish.19 Karen Sonik argues that Tiamat is not originally conceived as a chaos monster but primarily as an “elemental liquid entity” that ultimately develops into a “proto-goddess.”20 Thus, Tiamat is not chiefly identified with chaos, even as the goddess is associated with “primeval matter” in the form of cosmic waters.21 This is in stark contrast to scholarship that defines Tiamat herself as the embodiment of chaos, a monster from the very start. Rather than categorizing Tiamat as a chaos monster, a growing number of scholars view the contest between Tiamat and Marduk as a struggle for

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power and authority. In her work on the conflict myth in the ancient world, Debra Ballentine argues against the use of the term chaos as it is generally misunderstood to mean “cosmic evil.”22 Rather than reducing power struggles between opposing deities as conflicts between good and evil, Ballentine maintains that they each represent an “an alternative divine power structure.”23 Thus, terms like chaos and order become external moral judgments imposed on these texts that do not account for the interpreter’s own biases. By accepting these binary terms, in Ballentine’s words, “we adopt the interested stance of the text, reproducing its negative portrayal of these characters.”24 Most instructive for our purposes is Ballentine’s warning against assuming descriptions of Tiamat’s monstrous appearance or her hybrid army as indicative of evil. These traditional markers of Tiamat’s monstrosity are simply devices used by the authors to delegitimize Tiamat’s claim to the throne.25 As argued previously, her rival Marduk is described using monstrous and horrific imagery even though he is considered a god of order. Assuming binary divisions of good versus evil and order versus chaos have historically undergirded the study of divine beings. One sees similar developments in the categorization of the Ugaritic god Mot as monster in comparison to the more heroic god Baal despite belonging to the same divine family.26 Though one is typically understood as monstrous and the other as positive, they are both children of the god El.27 The Baal Cycle, a source sympathetic to Baal’s cause, is not the most reliable evidence for Mot. As Ballentine has argued, one must take seriously the intents of the text to discredit and malign opposing opinions and perspectives.28 The same applies to John’s use of the Dragon in the Apocalypse and the assumptions readers make on encountering this figure. The modern default position is to view the dragon solely as an agent of chaos which effectively overshadows the hero’s own use or identification with it. By focusing exclusively on the monstrosity of the Dragon, one loses sight of the other monstrous creatures that fill this apocalyptic work especially those generally deemed benevolent. Moreover, dragons were not universally evil or negative creatures in the Greco-Roman world as they were also associated with healing, good luck, and wealth.29 Myths of dragons take on many forms throughout the ancient world, as both benign and malevolent forms are present.30 John’s use of the Dragon cannot simply be reduced to a sign of chaos, rather it occupies a contested space in his imagination by drawing on Jewish traditions as God’s opponent in conjunction with contemporary Greco-Roman perspectives. Sara Emanuel adds that a hidden transcript is at play with John’s application of the Dragon, as this becomes a trickster story where the empire that normally represents order and power, is duped by the colonized and marginalized Jews.31 There is more to John’s use of the monstrous than a simple breakdown of chaos versus order; these symbolic creatures help the colonized navigate their own trauma and inter-community conflict under the imperial system.

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THE GREAT RED DRAGON As discussed earlier, scholars have typically aligned hybridity with impurity and evil in John’s Apocalypse. This present work follows a different framework by noting that hybridity points also toward otherness that inspires both awe and fear. The Dragon is considered the greatest opponent of the Lamb but in contrast to other divine creatures, John surprisingly does not describe it as an obviously hybrid entity.32 It is introduced as, “A great red dragon having seven heads and ten horns, and seven diadems on his heads. And his tail swept down a third of the stars from heaven and cast them to the earth” (Rev. 12:3–4a). John’s account of the great red Dragon’s body is sparse, and readers are forced to fill in the details with their imaginations. The modern audience will likely picture a dragon from the tales of St. George or perhaps Smaug from Tolkien’s Hobbit. These dragons, though related in form, are more homogenous and lack much of the variety found in the ancient world. Though its appearance is not well defined, it is more than likely that John’s Dragon resembles Greco-Roman examples rather than Tolkien’s Smaug. Ancient dragons or drakontes are understood primarily as fantastically large serpents instead of the winged lizard-like creatures one might expect today.33 The serpentine characteristic of ancient dragons is also reflected in Ugaritic myths of the multi-headed serpent (KTU 1.3 III 38–46; 1.5 I 1–8) as well as the twisting biblical serpent named Leviathan (Isa. 27:1). The Greco-Roman drakontes could also be hybrid creatures featuring animal combinations (birds, dogs, goats)34 or humans (especially the torso and head).35 Surprisingly, the common portrayal of a modern dragon with wings is neither the norm nor the default appearance of ancient dragons. Many of these creatures, including the Hydra and Python, fall under the category of drakontes pure who are primarily large serpents with a beard or a crest that lack the expected wings.36 However, a second category, that of drakontes-composite are fusion creatures who combine serpentine features with that of humans and/or animals.37 A chief example, also relevant for the Apocalypse, is the god Typhon who is represented as a serpent-human hybrid with wings.38 Scholars have seen the conflict between Typhon and Zeus as a potential source informing John’s own depiction of the great red Dragon who is similarly pitted against a chief deity.39 Unlike the winged Typhon, the Dragon of Revelation lacks any such explicit description though his ability to reach the stars does not rule out the possibility that it also has wings (Rev. 12:4).40 Moreover, there is no clear indication that John’s Dragon possesses human features like Typhon but it may display human characteristics like speech (Rev. 13:11).41 A combination of the monstrous and human is not unknown to sources like Ezek. 1 and Dan. 7 whose living creatures and beasts are repeatedly shown in human-animal combinations.42 The above discussion

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highlights the ambiguity of John’s Dragon whose indebtedness to Jewish and Greco-Roman traditions is evident; however, his presentation of this ancient creature never fully materializes. A Monstrous Body Despite the lack of specific hybrid physical descriptors, there remain clues that link the great red Dragon with monstrosity. This process of excavation is inspired by Cohen’s term “signifiers of monstrous passing” in which the monster’s body is reconstructed only through partial glimpses.43 These hints of the Dragon’s physical appearance include its size, color, and composite body. Furthermore, hybridity is only one form that monsters assume both in the ancient and modern world. Noel Carroll uses the term “fantastic biologies” to categorize “recurring strategies for designing monsters that appear with striking regularity.”44 Though he focuses on modern monsters, the same observations hold true for ancient ones that also employ set types of monstrous attributes across a variety of cultures. These biologies, in addition to hybridity, include magnification and massification, in which phobic creatures are either fantastically enlarged or present themselves in a terrifying swarm.45 A final feature identified by Carroll is “horrific metonymy” in which the monster is surrounded by other creatures or substances that illicit disgust.46 The compatriots of the Dragon, the beasts from the sea and the earth, are excellent examples of this strategy explored in the next chapter.47 The first descriptor John provides for the Dragon is that it is red in color (Rev. 12:3). In Greco-Roman culture, red is ambiguous as both positive and negative attributes are possible. In general, the color red was viewed positively by the Greeks who believed it to possess protective powers.48 And yet, Seth-Typhon an antagonist of Isis and Osiris, is associated with the color red, highlighting this ambivalence.49 In the Jewish Testament of Abraham, Death reveals itself as a terrifying series of beasts, including seven fiery heads of dragons (T. Ab. 17:14; 19:6–7).50 On a narrative level in the Apocalypse, the color red may also link some antagonists of John’s visions: the clothing of Woman Babylon (Rev. 17:4), the scarlet beast (Rev. 17:3), and the great red Dragon (Rev. 12).51 G. K. Beale makes a similar connection arguing that it “connotes the oppressive character of the dragon” as it is associated not only with the beast, and Woman Babylon but also the blood of the saints in Rev. 17:6.52 The color red is only one among several features that link these characters, others include: possessing multiple heads, horns, and the propensity to deceive.53 These monstrous biologies do echo throughout the Apocalypse linking creatures together or as Paul B. Duff observes, “all of these figures tend to run together in the reader’s mind.”54 However, as argued earlier, composite monstrous bodies are not relegated solely to those creatures associated

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with the Dragon. The presence of horns or even multiple body parts does not align one with the Dragon automatically as the living creatures and the Lamb all share these attributes. Rather, that many of John’s divine creatures possess uncanny similarities, serves to emphasize their shared status as other regardless of which side they fight for. Though the color red is shared by numerous characters associated with the Dragon—evidence for its links to monstrosity is not conclusive. A further “symbolic structure” of horror monsters is magnification in which phobic creatures are enlarged beyond belief, eliciting horror and disgust.55 As noted above, ancient dragons are typically serpentine in appearance fitting Carroll’s notion of a phobic animal. This magnification of the monster is designed to demonstrate its threat and the danger it poses to its victims. Beyond the term megas to describe the Dragon of Revelation, its great size is also implied by its ability to sweep down the stars with its tail (Rev. 12:4). This act is partly influenced by Dan. 8:10, “It grew as high as the host of heaven and it cast down some of the host and some of the stars to the ground and trampled upon them.”56 In Daniel’s vision, the beast is the Greek king Antiochus IV who is portrayed as the opponent of God and through his actions against the Jerusalem cult sets himself up as their sole leader.57 Other ancient authors also saw Antiochus in a similar light, emphasizing his grandiose pretensions as one who thought he could touch the stars of heaven (2 Macc. 9:10). The actions of Antiochus were not simply relegated to an earthly empire but betrayed a desire to overthrow and replace the ruling cosmic power. Similarly ancient dragons like Typhon, whose immensity is vividly described by Apollodorus, was so large in size that his head brushed against the stars (Bibliotheca 1.6.3). Python’s colossal size was also stressed by numerous writers, one which stated that Mount Parnassus was obscured due to the many coils wrapped around it (Menander Rhetor, Peri epideiktikon 3.17).58 These ancient dragons who repeatedly rise up to conquer and colonize are emblematic of the notion that the monster always escapes only to rise again.59 As Beale notes, the similarities of John’s great red Dragon to Antiochus IV, recall earlier themes of a historic enemy like the Egyptian Pharaoh who established themself as the equal of God.60 The assemblies’ current situation as a Roman colony is set within this larger historic paradigm, a cyclical pattern of God defending the oppressed, as the divine warrior in opposition to the dragon. John’s identification of the monster with the Roman Empire is important as it gives name to the unknowable, preparing John’s audience for a new reiteration of the cosmic battle with the dragon. The massive size of the creature is threatening but the Apocalypse’s Dragon also possesses multiple horned heads (Rev. 12:3). Scholars connect this seven-headed monster to other hybrid Ugaritic dragons (KTU 1.3 III 38–46; 1.5 I 1–8), Jewish sea serpents (Ps. 74:14), and Greco-Roman deities

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and creatures (Apollodorus, Bibliotheca 1.6.3; 2.5.2) who display similar appearances. The inclusion of seven heads indicates a kind of composite creature though there is no overt mention of different types of species as one might expect.61 In this way, John’s Dragon resembles the Hydra whom Daniel Ogden considers a “drakontes pure” despite her multiple heads.62 And yet, like all monsters, John’s Dragon breaks normative boundaries in its hybrid body especially its multiple heads that threaten with their seven terrifying mouths. Escape is rendered almost impossible as Heracles discovered in his fight against the Hydra who could regenerate new heads to replace those slain (Apollodorus, Bibliotheca 2.5.2). Again, one finds that the primal fear of humans being devoured resurfaces as a major indication of the monstrous.63 This trope of being eaten also finds earlier precedents in the Ugarit god Mot who swallows humans and gods (KTU 1.5 II 2–4; 1.6 II 17–19; c.f. Isa. 25:8) and the Greek god Cronus who ingests his own children (Hesiod, Theog. 45967). The dragon of Jer. 51:34 also poses a similar threat, as he devours and swallows his prey. Even in Revelation, one finds this same preoccupation, “Then the dragon stood before the woman who was about to give birth so that when she gave birth, he might devour her child as soon as it was born” (Rev. 12:4b). The main threat of the monster is the danger of complete annihilation when the victim is utterly consumed without a trace. In his study on the drakōn, Ogden maintains that even creatures like Medusa or Cerberus with small proportions of dragon material are viewed as threatening.64 They break boundaries becoming not only a physical threat but psychologically disorienting. Carroll contends that fear is a primary emotion upon encountering the monstrous but is typically coupled with a sense of fascination.65 This is also evident in the people’s reactions of worship and devotion to the Dragon and the beast (Rev. 13:4). Moreover, John deliberately cultivates the disgust of his target audience by emphasizing the Dragon’s crossing of boundaries who sets itself up as a contender against “the one sitting on the throne.” The worship of the beast that recalls earlier expressions of loyalty to the God of Israel (Rev. 12:4; cf. Exod. 15:11) is designed to provoke the emotions of disgust and enmity against the Dragon. Moreover, the aggressive and threatening behavior of the Dragon becomes the basis for John’s appeal to his community to abject the creature and all it represents. The Dragon not only challenges the heavenly sphere but attempts to kill the male child who likely symbolizes Christ (Rev. 12:4) before turning his attention to those loyal to the child (Rev. 12:17). According to David A. deSilva, this enmity against the Dragon is transferred to the Roman Empire, who is in his words “a potentially more ambiguous figure.”66 John could not assume the antagonism of the people against the imperial system but instead recasts their colonial experience into a familiar mythic tale of the dragon versus the hero, in an attempt to win their support for his anti-Roman vision for the assemblies.

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The descriptions of the great red Dragon are indebted to multiple sources throughout the ancient world. John’s Dragon is a composite, an amalgamation of numerous images found in ancient Near Eastern, Jewish, and GrecoRoman myths. Some find this problematic, as is evident in Beale’s following statement, “It is absurd to think that John is ‘a copyist of ill-digested pagan myths’, since it is clear that the thrust of his whole book is a polemic against tolerance of idolatry and compromise with pagan institutions.”67 Beale acknowledges the presence of Greco-Roman components but insists that the traditions of the Hebrew Bible are the primary source of influence. This study has acknowledged the multiple strands of tradition found throughout John’s narrative without entering into a discussion of origins.68 Instead, the very presence of disparate narratives and myths point to John’s experience of colonialism as evidence of a more fluid diasporic identity rather than rooted either in a Jewish or Roman one. This is reminiscent of Homi Bhabha’s observations on conflicting colonial identities that “despite shared histories of deprivation and discrimination” result in conflict and hostility.69 Likewise, John’s fight against the Dragon is symbolic of a greater contest against the Roman Empire, and behind this challenge, he draws battle lines between God and Satan (Rev. 12:9). Nonetheless, John’s real enemy is not Rome, but Jezebel the prophetess, who is also a colonial subject that has chosen a different and opposing path to negotiating life under Roman rule. FOLLOWING THE DRAGON After examining the monstrous appearance of the Dragon, the following section analyzes the movements of this creature across the topography of the Apocalypse. John is preoccupied with the making and preserving of boundaries as he strives to impose his notions of acceptable behavior and conduct. As noted earlier, eating food sacrificed to idols becomes a test or reflection of one’s relationship to this contested border. Jezebel and those in her community who cross this boundary, in their accommodation to the larger colonial culture, are hybrid entities and in John’s eyes discredited. How communities delineate space reveals an understanding of who belongs and who is relegated to the outside. As Jon L. Berquist states, “Space is not neutral” and furthermore, “any talk about space is talk of meaning—the meaning that interpreters assign to space.”70 Even more importantly, the way that space is defined in ancient texts is not only descriptive of reality but can serve as a way of creating new spaces and by extension identities. Though John advocates for strong and impenetrable borders between the assemblies and the larger empire, his visions are a succession of porous and permeable movements across locales normally kept separate. He himself is a liminal figure, caught between the

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earthly communities and the divine realm to which he has access. Moreover, the maps of John’s visions are not always decipherable, as it is not clear if these are “real” locales or “imagined” worlds. Spatial theory is especially helpful in reading ancient apocalypses that view the world from a cosmic perspective, one that is not normally accessible to the average person.71 Numerous theorists have advanced insights into spatial theory including Michel Foucault,72 Henri Lefebvre,73 and Edward W. Soja.74 In addition to monster theory and postcolonialism, spatial theory addresses issues of borders and boundaries.75 Kelly Coblentz Bautch observes this interplay of power and space: Apocalyptic literature thus functions as resistance in that it imaginatively constructs an alternate lived space for its readers, that is, a Thirdspace. In doing so, it addresses the question of who controls and has access to space, whether real or imagined. As it provides alternative versions of the world, it also exposes the brutal but illusory power of colonizers who occupy the land and rivals who control contested space.76

Theorists define Thirdspace as either a real or an imagined location that includes a community’s lived experience.77 However, it can also function as a resistance to oppressive powers as articulated in Soja’s term “thirdingas-Othering.”78 In speaking of 1 Enoch’s alternative cosmology, Anathea Portier-Young observes that Enochic writers “countered imperial cartography” through Enoch’s heavenly journey accompanied by a divine guide.79 Similarly, John’s map of the cosmic world resists the power of the empire by rewriting the borders and challenging contemporary understandings of Rome’s central position in the world.80 Multiple divine beings break boundaries in the Apocalypse but the movements of the great red Dragon, a symbol of the Roman Empire, are significant for John as they represent a distinct threat to both the divine world and the earthly community. The following section will trace the liminal movements of the Dragon as it breaks into heaven, is cast down to the wilderness, takes up residence in the midst of the assemblies and finally is thrown into the lake of fire and abyss. A Sign in Heaven In the throne room visions of Rev. 4–5, John has already begun to establish his map of the cosmos, with “the one sitting on the throne” at the very center (Rev. 4:2–8). All creation is pictured as oriented to this nexus of power as they worship both “the one on the throne” and the Lamb (Rev. 5:11–14). Boundaries between heaven and earth appear fixed, though doors to heaven may open periodically (Rev. 4:1; 11:19). John rewrites the cosmic map to diminish the authority of Rome by demonstrating that contrary to current

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thought, it had no place in heaven. Paul Henry Yeates argues that Roman imperial ideology advanced the view that Rome’s rule extended beyond earth to heaven.81 Additionally, the emperors were associated with maintaining cosmic order and Rome in particular was considered “the true cosmic center bridging heaven and earth.”82 Astral images were often used to express Roman imperial ideology especially those associated with the zodiac.83 As noted earlier, John’s Dragon is first identified as a sign in the heavens along with the Woman cloaked with the sun, moon, and stars (Rev. 12:1). The term sēmeion can be translated both as sign but also constellation, echoing or even challenging the empire’s supposed domination of the heavens. Thus, the events of Rev. 12 take on a more imperative tone when viewed against the background of heaven as a contested space between the colonized and the colonizer. The Dragon appears in heaven as an antagonistic figure who first sweeps down the stars of heaven before turning to devour the child born of the Woman clothed with the sun (Rev. 12:3–4). There is no indication as to the origin of the Dragon only that its actions threaten the stability of the heavenly realm. This attack on the cosmos is reminiscent of Daniel’s visions where the little horn, a symbol of Antiochus IV, similarly throws down the host of heaven and tramples them (Dan. 8:10).84 In the judgment scene of Dan. 7, the fourth beast also a symbol of Antiochus IV, is put to death and destroyed by the order of the divine court (Dan. 7:11). Portier-Young argues that this scene of judgment is evidence of the sovereignty of God’s control over the universe in contrast to the limited power of Antiochus whose defeat is almost embarrassingly easy for the divine court.85 In Daniel, the great conflict between God and the beasts is only a small blip in the cosmic realm rather than the epic battle one might anticipate. A similar pattern is repeated in John’s visions as the great red Dragon attempts to subvert the created order but is ultimately defeated. Significantly, after the Dragon’s attempted attack, a loud voice proclaims the power of God and the authority of the Messiah (Rev. 12:10). Though a door had opened in heaven (Rev. 11:19), John demonstrates the sovereignty over the heavenly region is absolute with the Dragon’s banishment. Like other divine creatures, the Dragon has the ability to cross divine-earthly boundaries, but his restriction from heaven emphasizes his subordinate position to “the one on the throne.” Just as John rewrites the imperial map by centering God as the axis mundi, he destabilizes the empire portrayed as the Dragon, whose movements become increasingly constricted in John’s visions. Wilderness It is in the wilds that one expects to meet monsters, whether that be the Lonely Mountain of Middle Earth, Neverland in Peter Pan, or the Upside

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Down realm in Stranger Things. As Margaret Atwood observes, “With every map there’s an edge—a border between the known and the unknown. In old medieval and early Renaissance maps, the edges were where the monsters were drawn—the sea serpents and many-headed hydras, which were, as we say, off the map.”86 Readers of Frankenstein find similar tropes in tracking the movement of the scientist’s creature who hunts him to the arctic, the very edge of the world, one of the most remote and inhospitable locations. The wilderness is more than a physical site; it is imbued with a sense of the unknown, a place in effect without boundaries. Ancient cosmologies remember the wilderness as home to the fantastic and the monstrous as evidenced in the travels of both Gilgamesh and Odysseus. It is known as an otherworld, a place of both “threat and potential,”87 neither here nor there. It is above all, a liminal location, which transforms those who find refuge there or conversely those forced into it as outcasts. The wilderness operates both positively and negatively throughout the history of the Jewish people.88 It is a place removed from the domestic and home to wild creatures, a land both inhospitable and precarious. It is the site of great suffering for Hagar (Gen. 21:15–19) or the Hebrews who die in the wilderness due to their disobedience (Num. 14:29). However, it is also paradoxically a place of revelation and transformation where humans frequently encounter both God and divine beings (Gen. 16:7–14; 21:15–19; Exod. 3; 1 Kgs. 19). In addition to encountering God in the wilderness, the biblical writers also preserve recollections that it is the abode of wild creatures and demons (Job 24:5; Ps. 74:14; Isa. 34:12–15; Mark. 1:12–14; Matt. 12:43; Luke 4:29; Rev. 18:2). As a liminal site, it serves as both a real location but additionally as an imaginary space, or as spatial theorists say “a Thirdspace.”89 Laura Feldt argues that its liminality is bound up in its multiple appearances as a geographical locale, a literary motif, and a cosmic location.90 One finds similar multivalent experiences of the wilderness in Revelation as it conjures up notions of hardship while simultaneously acting as a space of divine encounter. After the birth of her child, the Woman clothed with the sun escapes to the wilderness with the Dragon in pursuit (Rev. 12:5–6). Adela Yarbo Collins notes the similarities to Leto’s own flight from the serpentine god Python who also seeks after her children, Apollo and Artemis.91 These Greco-Roman traditions merge with Jewish stories of God’s rescue and provision in the wilderness that range from Hagar’s encounter with an angel (Gen. 21:15–19), to the Israelites’ divine provisions of manna and quail (Exod. 16), and Elijah’s experience with the angel of the Lord (1 Kgs. 19:4–9). Here, in the wilderness of John’s visions, the woman is protected and nourished for one thousand two hundred and sixty days (Rev. 12:5–6). However, it ceases to be a place of refuge for her with the arrival of the Dragon who hunts her down after his assault on heaven is thwarted. The malevolence of the Dragon

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is apparent as he seeks to destroy the Woman, unleashing a torrent of water from his mouth (Rev. 12:15). Once again, the Dragon’s attack is countered, this time by the Earth that swallows up the flood of water (Rev. 12:16). Readers of John’s Apocalypse are conditioned to see only one monster: the great red Dragon who pursues the Woman clothed with the sun. Nonetheless, there are other monstrous creatures present in the wilderness that clash with the Dragon. The first monster to appear in this passage is the Woman herself, who undergoes a transformation into a hybrid creature. To help her escape the Dragon, God gives her two wings of an eagle that allow her to flee to the wilderness (Rev. 12:14). This Woman, already fantastic in nature with her astral attributes, now morphs into a part human-animal hybrid creature. The presence of a second monster is also discernible in the text, though little attention is paid to it. The monstrous mouth makes yet another appearance as the Earth comes to the rescue of the Woman and swallows the deadly waters of the Dragon. Virginia Burrus argues, “earth’s devouring thus perversely miming, and thereby undermining, the Dragon’s menacing voraciousness, in this text of proliferating mimicry (12.15–16).”92 Their actions are eerily similar, not necessarily because one is miming the other, but because they are both monsters whose threat is highlighted in this cosmic encounter. Collins argues that the Dragon is pictured as a warrior throughout the book of Revelation whose activities are “dominated by battle language.”93 This combat between the Earth and the Dragon is typically overlooked, and yet it is no less pivotal than the later imprisonment of the Dragon (Rev. 20:1–3, 7–10).94 Even this most “other” of otherworlds proves inhospitable to the Dragon, further cementing John’s reinscription of the cosmic realm. Previously, John has challenged the reach of the empire in heaven and now even the wilderness, the traditional haunt of demons, is inaccessible to the Dragon. This strikes me as potentially humorous for John’s audience, sympathetic to his rhetoric of inverting Roman norms by casting the empire as other and unwelcome in the most inhospitable of locales.95 The Center Monsters originate on the periphery of society, but they are most terrifying when they attack and occupy the places of power.96 In John’s vision, the Dragon progressively moves from the periphery to the center. At the end of Rev. 12, the Dragon is unsuccessful in his attack against the Woman clothed with the sun, and now turns his attention to her children that are faithful to God and Lamb (Rev. 12:17). This likely includes John’s audience among the assemblies in Asia Minor that he deems faithful or that he is hoping to persuade away from the influence of Jezebel. Upon leaving the wilderness, the Dragon moves to another liminal location: the seashore (Rev. 12:18).

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Here, he awaits the arrival of two cosmic beasts that rise from the sea (Rev. 13:1–10) and the earth (Rev. 13:11–18). The presence of the Dragon is further underlined in the work of the beasts who have the authority of the Dragon and seek to gain the allegiance of the people (Rev. 13:2). In the letter to Pergamum, John writes of the presence of Satan in their midst: And to the angel/messenger of the assembly in Pergamum write: “These are the words of him who has the sharp double-edged sword, ‘I know where you dwell, where Satan’s throne is. Yet you remain faithful to my name, and you do not deny my faith even in the days of Antipas my witness, my faithful one, who was killed among you where Satan lives’.” (Rev. 2:12–13)

Already in Rev. 12:9, John has identified the Dragon with Satan and the Devil, conflating multiple traditions into one symbol. Here in the letter to the Pergamum assembly, he writes that Satan’s throne is now located in their very midst, accounting for their increased level of danger. The exact identity of this throne is debated and its relation to the Dragon’s throne in Rev. 13:2, is by no means certain.97 In contrast to the view that Pergamum was the center of the imperial cult in Asia Minor, Steven J. Friesen argues that there was not one, but many dispersed among the provinces.98 The centrality of the Dragon does not imply one location but rather views the whole of Asia Minor as the abode of the Dragon and the beasts. The accommodation of the assemblies to the larger imperial world and culture prompts John to revise his relation to empire by redrawing the boundaries around the community. As noted earlier, he intentionally reorients his communities’ perspective from that of Rome to “the one sitting on the throne” through his use of contested space. Tina Pippin observes, “The map of the Apocalypse is a political map, for the destruction of the ‘world’ (the Mediterranean basin) and its reconstruction as the political center of God’s power in the New Jerusalem are all central.”99 The earth itself becomes a target of the destructive judgments from the throne room as the sun is blackened (Rev. 6:12), the earth is burned (Rev. 8:7), and even the oceans are poisoned (Rev. 16:3). Moreover, multiple afflictions affect the people of the earth who suffer from the divine judgments, including those that worship the beast (Rev. 14:9–11). This war against the Dragon and the beasts reaches its climax with the battle against the Rider called Faithful and True (Rev. 19:11–21) and the imprisonment of the Dragon in the abyss (Rev. 20:1–3). This is the third moment of divine conflict that results in the restriction of the Dragon’s movements who is now propelled from the center to the periphery.100

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The Abyss John’s cosmology is neither explained nor systematically presented in the Apocalypse. A mixture of ancient myths and Jewish traditions are melded together to produce what Pippin calls the “apocalyptic landscape.”101 The Dragon has moved across this cosmic terrain from the heavens to the wilderness to the cities and now it finds itself contained in the abyss (Rev. 20:1–3). This pit serves as a prison for the Dragon, now locked up securely by an angel from heaven. Earlier in Rev. 9, this same location was unlocked by a divine being to let out the monstrous and destructive locusts who serve as part of God’s army. Additionally, the beast is also reported to have risen from the abyss (Rev. 11:7) and is later connected with the sea (Rev. 13:1). The abyss is a difficult place to define and it is often conflated with other locations of punishment. It is traditionally understood as the home of the demonic and yet one finds angels at work as guardians and gatekeepers.102 This phenomenon is also present in Isa. 24:21–22 in which the host of heaven and the kings of the earth are imprisoned in the pit reserved for judgment.103 The abyss in Revelation is a deeply ambivalent space that houses monsters who act both as allies and antagonists of God. A well-known axiom of monster theory is that the “monster always escapes,” and though contained is constantly reborn.104 Perhaps the most famous example also involves a dragon, the Hydra whose ability to regenerate its heads, frustrated Heracles. Here at the end of Revelation, the Dragon is once more identified with “that ancient serpent, who is the Devil and Satan” (Rev. 20:2). His containment lasts for a thousand years until he is released to wage war by deceiving the nations. Once again, the Dragon moves from the periphery by gathering an army from the farthest corners of the earth (Rev. 20:8) before moving to the center identified as the “camp of the saints and the beloved city” (Rev. 20:10). However, this march to the “beloved city” is halted and the Dragon’s attempt to conquer is intercepted by God’s divine army and heaven itself (Rev. 20:9). John triumphantly describes the defeat of the Dragon’s army and the subsequent imprisonment in the lake of fire along with the beast and false prophet. We are simply told that there they will be tormented “day and night for ever and ever” (Rev. 20:10). Later when Death and Hades are thrown into the lake of fire, it is called the second death (Rev. 20:14; cf. 21:8). But is this second death a complete annihilation? Commentators are divided on whether it describes eternal suffering or extermination.105 The ambiguity of the text leaves open the possibility that the Dragon and the beasts may rise yet again, a new empire to challenge the supremacy of God and the Lamb.

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CONCLUSION: SIGNIFICANCE OF THE DRAGON The sign of the Dragon in the Apocalypse functions on multiple levels within John’s symbolic world. As Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza states, the enduring influence of John’s Apocalypse is found “in its evocative power inviting imaginative participation.”106 John’s monsters are an integral part of this universe, acting as warnings to those living on the edges of the empire in the assemblies of Asia Minor. They mark the boundary, according to John, between faithfulness and apostasy. And yet, monsters are not a static symbol but as Ricoeur describes, “In fact, unlike a comparison that we consider from the outside, the symbol is the movement of the primary meaning which makes us participate in the latent meaning and thus assimilates us to that which is symbolized without us being able to master the similitude intellectually.”107 Though the monster acts as a warning and can mimic God and the Lamb, as a symbol it is more complicated than simply standing as a pale imitation. It participates in a multitude of traditions both Jewish, ancient Near Eastern, and Greco-Roman as a personification of a world system in opposition to the divine throne room. John’s use of the Dragon creatively inverts the culture’s normative views on boundaries by systematically corralling the Dragon from the cosmic world to the center and then back to the periphery again. This ancient pattern of a hero against a monster is the vehicle through which John communicates the precariousness of the Roman Empire in contrast to “the one sitting on the throne.” It also has the added benefit of diminishing the power of the colonizer as the colonized can actively envision the marginalization of the symbolic Dragon and the imperial powers it represents.108

NOTES 1. G. K. Chesterton, “Red Angel,” in Tremendous Trifles (London: Methuen, 1909), 102. 2. The serpent or dragon has not always stood as a threatening creature as many ancient cultures viewed serpents as positive and beneficial symbols. See James H. Charlesworth, The Good and Evil Serpent: How a Universal Symbol Became Christianized (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2010). 3. This is admittedly a western perspective as other cultures celebrate the dragon as a symbol of luck and benevolence. 4. For a discussion of the hero slaying myth, see Calvert Watkins, How to Kill a Dragon: Aspects of Indo-European Poetics (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1995), 299–303.

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5. Beal notes the influence of the defeat of the Dragon by Michael in Revelation and its later permutations in works like Beowulf, the legends of St. George, and Bram Stoker’s Dracula (Timothy K. Beal, Religion and Its Monsters [New York: Routledge, 2002], 83). 6. The dragon of the St. George legends comes to represent national fears of a monstrous threat against England and Beal finds similar themes in Stoker’s Dracula where the monster also invades England to threaten both the country and its women (Beal, Religion and Its Monsters, 83). 7. Adela Yarbro Collins, The Combat Myth in the Book of Revelation (Missoula: Scholars Press, 1976); Robert D. Miller II, The Dragon, the Mountain, and the Nations: An Old Testament Myth, Its Origins, and Its Afterlives, Explorations in Ancient Near Eastern Civilizations 6 (University Park: Eisenbrauns, 2018). 8. The plural form of sēmeion also occurs another four times in Revelation in contexts of false signs (Rev. 13:13–14; 16:14; 19:20). Aune further notes that sēmeion is used to translate the Hebrew ʼȏt meaning “sign” whose semantic range includes omen or constellation (David E. Aune, Revelation 6-16, Word Biblical Commentary 52B [Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 1998], 679. 9. Aune, Revelation 6-16, 680). 10. K.H. Rengstorf, “Sēmeion,” in Theological Dictionary of the New Testament, ed. Gerhard Friedrich, vol. 7 (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1971), 203. 11. Jeffrey Jerome Cohen, “Monster Culture (Seven Theses),” in Monster Theory: Reading Culture, ed. Jeffrey Jerome Cohen (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1996), 4. 12. Jacques Derrida, Margins of Philosophy, trans. Alan Bass (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1982), 9. 13. Derrida, Margins of Philosophy, 9. 14. Derrida, Margins of Philosophy, 9. 15. John Day, God’s Conflict with the Dragon and the Sea: Echoes of a Canaanite Myth in the Old Testament, University of Cambridge Oriental Publications 35 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985). 16. Hermann Gunkel, Creation and Chaos in the Primeval Era and the Eschaton: A Religio-Historical Study of Genesis 1 and Revelation 12, trans. K. William Whitney Jr., The Biblical Resource Series (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2006), 24. 17. Amy Kalmanofsky, Terror All Around: Horror, Monsters, and Theology in the Book of Jeremiah, The Library of Hebrew Bible/Old Testament Studies 390 (New York: T&T Clark, 2008), 53–54. 18. Gunkel, Creation and Chaos in the Primeval Era and the Eschaton, 6–7, 22–23. 19. For a reconsideration and rebuttal of Gunkel’s theory, see the collected essays in Richard Henry Beal and Jo Ann Scurlock, eds., Creation and Chaos: A Reconsideration of Hermann Gunkel’s Chaoskampf Hypothesis (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2013). 20. Karen Sonik, “From Hesiod’s Abyss to Ovid’s rudis indigestaque moles: Chaos and Cosmos in the Babylonian ‘Epic of Creation’,” in Creation and Chaos: A

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Reconsideration of Hermann Gunkel’s Chaoskampf Hypothesis, ed. JoAnn Scurlock and Richard Beal (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2013), 14, 22–23. 21. Sonik, 16. 22. Debra Scoggins Ballentine, The Conflict Myth and the Biblical Tradition (New York: Oxford University Press, 2015), 186. 23. Ballentine, The Conflict Myth and the Biblical Tradition, 186. 24. Ballentine, The Conflict Myth and the Biblical Tradition, 189. 25. Ballentine, The Conflict Myth and the Biblical Tradition, 187. 26. Mark S. Smith, The Origins of Biblical Monotheism: Israel’s Polytheistic Background and the Ugaritic Texts (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 32–35. 27. Baal’s status as a child of El is not as clear but he is presented as a second-tier deity along with Mot, Yamm, and Anat. 28. Ballentine, The Conflict Myth and the Biblical Tradition, 189. 29. Collins, The Combat Myth. For the diversity of traditions regarding serpents in the ancient world, see Charlesworth, The Good and Evil Serpent. 30. For a thorough discussion of the variety of dragon traditions in the GrecoRoman world, see Daniel Ogden, Drakōn: Dragon Myth and Serpent Cult in the Greek and Roman Worlds (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013). 31. Sarah Emanuel, Humor, Resistance, and Jewish Cultural Persistence in the Book of Revelation: Roasting Rome (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2020), 132–33. 32. I have noted this feature of the Dragon elsewhere (Heather Macumber, “The Threat of Empire: Monstrous Hybridity in Revelation 13,” Biblical Interpretation 27, no. 1 [2019]: 117–18). 33. Ogden, Drakōn, 2. 34. Examples include the chimera and Cerberus. 35. Typhon and the Gorgons are emblematic of human/serpentine combinations. 36. Ogden, Drakōn, 26–67. 37. Ogden, Drakōn, 68–115. 38. Ogden, Drakōn, 70. 39. For scholarship that considers the Typhon myth as inspiration for John’s Dragon (Collins, The Combat Myth, 78–79; Jan Willem Van Henten, “Dragon Myth and Imperial Ideology in Revelation 12-13,” in The Reality of Apocalypse: Rhetoric and Politics in the Book of Revelation, ed. David L. Barr, Symposium Series 39 [Atlanta: SBL, 2006], 181–203; Craig R. Koester, Revelation: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary, Anchor Yale Bible 38A [New Haven: Yale University Press, 2014], 545). 40. John describes the Dragon as “standing” before the Woman which Koester understands as holding its body upright (Koester, Revelation, 546). While this interpretation is possible as it emphasizes a serpentine body that stands upright, it is also possible that a more hybrid conception of the Dragon underlies this description. 41. The words of the Dragon are never recorded but the second beast is said to speak like a dragon (Rev. 13:11). Later this beast’s ability to speak is demonstrated in its deception of the inhabitants of the earth to make an image for the beast (Rev. 13:14).

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42. Heather Macumber, “A Monster without a Name: Creating the Beast Known as Antiochus IV in Daniel 7,” The Journal of Hebrew Scriptures 15 (2015): 13–15. 43. Cohen, “Monster Culture (Seven Theses),” 6. 44. Noel Carroll, The Philosophy of Horror: Or, Paradoxes of the Heart (New York: Routledge, 2003), 42–43. 45. Carroll, The Philosophy of Horror, 49–50. 46. Carroll, The Philosophy of Horror, 51. 47. Additionally, the foul spirits resembling frogs that emerge from the mouth of the Dragon, the beast, and the false prophet also function as horrific metonymies reinforcing the Dragon’s association with the unclean and impure for John (Rev. 16:13–14). 48. Aune, Revelation 6-16, 683. 49. Aune, Revelation 6-16, 683; Van Henten, “Dragon Myth and Imperial Ideology in Revelation 12-13,” 190. 50. Aune, Revelation 6-16, 683. 51. Leonard L. Thompson, The Book of Revelation: Apocalypse and Empire (New York: Oxford University Press, 1990), 79. 52. G. K. Beale, The Book of Revelation: A Commentary on the Greek Text, New International Greek Testament Commentary (Grand Rapids: W. B. Eerdmans, 1999), 634. 53. Thompson, The Book of Revelation, 79–80. 54. Paul B. Duff, Who Rides the Beast?: Prophetic Rivalry and the Rhetoric of Crisis in the Churches of the Apocalypse (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 78. 55. Carroll, The Philosophy of Horror, 49–50. Carroll’s work focuses on the genre of horror which justifiably emphasizes disgust as a prime reaction to the monstrous. However, in religious texts, horror is also accompanied by a sense of awe, fear, and amazement. It is notable that John’s great Dragon is evenly matched in size against a similarly massive God supposing John is following earlier traditions (Isa. 6). 56. Another scriptural influence is likely Isa. 14:13 which details the fall of the King of Babylon but has been a popular text for examining the “fall of Satan.” 57. Anathea E. Portier-Young, Apocalypse Against Empire: Theologies of Resistance in Early Judaism (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2014), 138. 58. Ogden, Drakōn, 44–45. 59. Cohen, “Monster Culture (Seven Theses),” 4. 60. Beale, The Book of Revelation, 636. 61. Ogden, Drakōn, 68. 62. Ogden, Drakōn, 29. 63. Carroll, The Philosophy of Horror, 43. Movies like Jaws (1975) highlight the fear of the monster’s mouth while Hannibal (2001) disturbs with the threat of complete annihilation through cannibalism. Even the fairy tale Little Red Riding Hood is an excellent example of this primal human fear of being eaten, in this instance by the big bad wolf. 64. Ogden, Drakōn, 68. 65. Carroll, The Philosophy of Horror, 191.

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66. David A. DeSilva, Seeing Things John’s Way: The Rhetoric of the Book of Revelation (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 199. 67. Beale, The Book of Revelation, 634. 68. For an examination of the creative and generative ways that John interacts with past and present scriptural traditions, see Michelle Fletcher, Reading Revelation as Pastiche: Imitating the Past, Library of New Testament Studies 571 (New York: Bloomsbury T&T Clark, 2017). 69. Homi K. Bhabha, The Location of Culture (London: Routledge, 2004), 2. 70. Jon L. Berquist, “Critical Spatiality and the Construction of the Ancient World,” in “Imagining” Biblical Worlds: Studies in Spatial, Social and Historical Constructs in Honor of James W. Flanagan, ed. David M. Gunn and Paula M. McNutt, Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series 359 (London: Sheffield Academic Press, 2002), 22. 71. Kelley Coblentz Bautch, “Spatiality and Apocalyptic Literature,” Hebrew Bible and Ancient Israel 5, no. 3 (September 2016): 276. 72. Michel Foucault and Jay Miskowiec, “Of Other Spaces,” Diacritics 16, no. 1 (1986): 22–27. 73. Henri Lefebvre, The Production of Space (Oxford: Blackwell, 1991). 74. Edward W. Soja, Thirdspace: Journeys to Los Angeles and Other Real-andImagined Places (Cambridge: Blackwell, 1996). 75. For a discussion of the intersection of spatial theory and postcolonialism, see Berquist, “Critical Spatiality and the Construction of the Ancient World,” 17, 23. 76. Bautch, “Spatiality and Apocalyptic Literature,” 284. 77. For a helpful overview, see Liv Ingeborg Lied, The Other Lands of Israel: Imaginations of the Land in 2 Baruch, Supplements to the Journal for the Study of Judaism 129 (Leiden: Brill, 2008), 13–16. 78. Soja, Thirdspace, 10. 79. Portier-Young, Apocalypse Against Empire, 290. 80. Bautch maintains that “Apocalyptic literature, known for its attention to otherworlds and transcendent space, as well as for fashioning alternative realms and correcting (perceived) inequalities, is well suited for a close reading informed by spatial theory” (Bautch, “Spatiality and Apocalyptic Literature,” 276). 81. Paul Henry Yeates, “Blaspheming Heaven: Revelation 13:4-8 and the Competition for Heaven in Roman Imperial Ideology and the Visions of John,” Novum Testamentum 59, no. 1 (2017): 43–51. 82. Yeates, “Blaspheming Heaven,” 45. 83. Yeates, “Blaspheming Heaven,” 47. 84. Similar themes of a divine conflict are found in other Greco-Roman works especially involving Typhon who also reaches up to attack the stars (Collins, The Combat Myth, 78). 85. Portier-Young, Apocalypse Against Empire, 155. 86. Margaret Atwood, “Dire Cartographies: The Roads to Ustopia,” in In Other Worlds: SF and the Human Imagination (New York: Nan E. Talese/Doubleday, 2011), 67.

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87. Jens Peter Schjøt, “Wilderness, Liminity, and the Other in Old Norse Myth and Cosmology,” in Wilderness in Mythology and Religion: Approaching Religious Spatialities, Cosmologies, and Ideas of Wild Nature, ed. Laura Feldt, Religion and Society (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2012), 185. 88. As Laura Feldt states it “oscillates between benign and malign” (Laura Feldt, “Wilderness and Hebrew Bible Religion—Fertility, Apostasy, and Religious Transformation in the Pentateuch,” in Wilderness in Mythology and Religion: Approaching Religious Spatialities, Cosmologies, and Ideas of Wild Nature, ed. Laura Feldt, Religion and Society [Berlin: De Gruyter, 2012], 82). See also Hindy Najman, “Towards a Study of the Uses of the Concept of Wilderness in Ancient Judaism,” Dead Sea Discoveries 13, no. 1 (2006): 99–113. 89. Soja, Thirdspace, 10. 90. Laura Feldt, “Wilderness in Mythology and Religion,” in Wilderness in Mythology and Religion: Approaching Religious Spatialities, Cosmologies, and Ideas of Wild Nature, ed. Laura Feldt, Religion and Society (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2012), 58. 91. Collins, The Combat Myth, 64–65, 67. 92. Virginia Burrus, Saving Shame: Martyrs, Saints, and Other Abject Subjects, Divinations: Rereading Late Ancient Religion (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2008), 17. 93. Collins, The Combat Myth, 161. 94. For example, Koester argues that there are three stages to conquering the Dragon: the battle in heaven (Rev. 12:7–12), the imprisonment in abyss (Rev. 20:1–3) and later in the lake of fire and sulfur (Rev. 20:7–10). Significantly, there is no mention of the Earth who repels the attack of the Dragon as does Michael and his angels. See Koester, Revelation, 558. On the following page, he briefly mentions the “personified earth” who swallows the water of the Dragon but little attention is paid to this conflict or its monstrous character (Koester, 559, cf. 567). 95. For a treatment of humor as resistance, see Emanuel, Humor, Resistance, and Jewish Cultural Persistence, 126–34. 96. Cohen, “Monster Culture (Seven Theses),” 7. 97. Laszlo Gallusz, “Thrones in the Book of Revelation Part 4: Thrones of God’s Adversaries,” Journal of the Adventist Theological Society 25, no. 1 (2014): 91–92. 98. Steven J. Friesen, “Satan’s Throne, Imperial Cults and the Social Settings of Revelation,” Journal for the Study of the New Testament 27, no. 3 (2005): 363. 99. Tina Pippin, “Peering into the Abyss: A Postmodern Reading of the Biblical Bottomless Pit,” in The New Literary Criticism and the New Testament, ed. Edward V. McKnight and Elizabeth Struthers Malbon (Valley Forge: Trinity Press International, 1994), 66. 100. The movement of the Dragon and beasts is not necessarily linear as they move between liminal locales. In ch. 17 John sees a scarlet beast with Woman Babylon in the wilderness, a scene that ends with her destruction by the horns and the beast (Rev. 17:16). This episode is analyzed further in ch. 7 focused on Woman Babylon. 101. Tina Pippin, Apocalyptic Bodies: The Biblical End of the World in Text and Image (London: Routledge, 1999), 64. 102. Kelley Coblentz Bautch, “Heavenly Beings Brought Low: A Study of Angels and the Netherworld,” in Angels: The Concept of Celestial Beings—Origins,

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Development and Reception, ed. F. W. Reiterer, Tobias Nicklas, and K. Schöpflin, Deuterocanonical and Cognate Literature (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2007), 459–75. 103. David E. Aune, Revelation 17-22, Word Biblical Commentary 52C (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 1998), 1078. 104. Cohen, “Monster Culture (Seven Theses),” 4–6. 105. Koester, Revelation, 792–93. 106. Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, The Book of Revelation: Justice and Judgment (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1998), 22. 107. Paul Ricœur, The Symbolism of Evil (Beacon Press, 1967), 16. 108. Emanuel, Humor, Resistance, and Jewish Cultural Persistence, 134.

Chapter 6

Beastly Companions

And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,  Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?1 W. B. Yeats

This excerpt from Yeats’ 1919 poem The Second Coming according to Nick Tabor “may well be the most thoroughly pillaged piece of literature in English.”2 It is quoted by politicians, novelists, and journalists, often extracted and reformed to suit a variety of situations never intended by the poet. Most notably, the term “rough beast” is excised only to be replaced by whatever oppressive system is currently a threat.3 Scholars offer up a wide variety of interpretations for Yeats’ rough beast, most settling on a reading of the coming woes of civilization untethered from its Christian past.4 My purpose in drawing attention to the poem centers on Yeats’ imagery of hybridity and liminality as encapsulated by the composite beast moving from the periphery to the center, destabilizing everything in its wake. Yeats’ poem is an insightful example of the uncanny designed to unnerve or disorient the reader.5 It is a picture of chaos where all of one’s normative assumptions are overturned as he writes “Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold.”6 Yeats appropriates familiar biblical imagery to communicate his sense of unease and horror of the approaching future as he reveals that his sight is troubled. The second coming for Yeats is not a hopeful event but becomes a catalyst for the beast to rise. This sphinx moving from the desert to Bethlehem is a terrifying mixed creature, displaying both animal and human features. Though readers might expect a savior to inaugurate this new world, they receive in its place a creature that breaks boundaries. In fact, the identity of this beast is never disclosed to the reader, leaving open the possibilities or even the 123

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inability to recognize this monster. The poet finishes with a deep sense of uneasiness as this rough beast appears to mimic and mock an earlier nativity story in Bethlehem. John’s Apocalypse also retells a story, one where beasts rise again to challenge heaven and threaten the faithful. It is an old tale of a dragon that battles against a god replicated throughout the ancient world. In John’s version, an amalgamation of stories coalesces, some drawn from Jewish traditions and others from Greco-Roman myths. The previous chapter introduced this monster, the great red Dragon of Rev. 12, who is the nexus of power and authority and the chief opponent of the heavenly forces. Similar to the divine army that accompanies God and the Lamb, the great Dragon has his own allies that fight alongside him. One emerges from the sea (Rev. 13:1–10) and the other from the earth (Rev. 13:11–18). These beasts are also hybrid beings that break boundaries in their physical compositions signaling their uncanny identities. Moreover, they blur the boundaries between the divine and earthly worlds as they gravitate from the periphery to the center. The reader witnesses their rise from the sea and the earth followed by the subsequent worship and allegiance of the people who cry, “Who is like the beast, and who can fight against it?” (Rev. 13:4, 12). Moreover, as Yeats’ “rough beast” brings to mind an earlier nativity story, the beast from John’s Apocalypse also mimics the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus in its monstrous body, with its mortal wound that is inexplicably healed (Rev. 13:3). Parody works simultaneously to engender revulsion in the audience but also unease at the disintegration of boundaries between the monstrous and divine. I agree with other scholars that argue John’s parody is designed to cultivate the disgust of his audience and to reveal his conception of the empire’s true nature. However, I would add that the proximity of the beast to the Lamb results in discomfort for the reader who is forced to acknowledge the uncanny and disorienting similarity between these two entities. John’s parody succeeds because these divine beings are not so different from one another. In addition to the two beasts of Rev. 13, I argue for an additional monster—the image of the beast—that should be considered alongside these other two creatures as a serious threat.7 Each of these entities displays features of hybridity and liminality, central components of John’s rhetoric to convince his audience to abandon their misplaced sense of loyalty to the Roman imperial cult and to shift their devotion to God and the Lamb. THE BEAST FROM THE SEA The Dragon standing on the seashore serves as a transitional point between chapters 12 and 13 as it waits for the arrival of its monstrous compatriots. In the previous chapter, the Dragon’s cosmic journey from the heavens to the

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wilderness was the focus; here in Rev. 13, the Dragon turns to another highly significant location, the cosmic sea.8 The Hebrew Bible records a long history of the sea pictured as the adversary of God and the site of a cosmic battle.9 This divine contest is a reimagining of God’s salvific actions in saving the Israelites through the Reed Sea crossing. The psalms in particular are rich in imagery that personify the fear of the sea, “When the waters saw you, O God, when the waters saw you, they were in anguish, also the deep trembled” (Ps. 77:16). Additionally, the sea almost appears humanlike in Ps. 114:5 as it is pictured escaping from the encroaching armies of Israel and God.10 Later traditions expand the combat with the sea to include a sea monster representative of a foreign empire that terrorizes Israel. As previously discussed, Jeremiah portrays Nebuchadrezzar as a dragon that threatens to swallow up Zion (Jer. 51:34) and Ezekiel depicts the Pharaoh of Egypt as a great sprawling dragon (Ezek. 29:3).11 The sea is a boundary location where divine combat occurs as symbolic for Israel’s continual experience of foreign oppression. While these above traditions from the psalms and prophets form an integral part of John’s imaginative matrix, the picture of the four beasts rising from the sea in Dan. 7 resonates also with Rev. 13.12 It is not a simple transfer of symbols, but a creative appropriation of older traditions put to use in John’s specific imperial cultural context. The beast from the sea is a hybrid creature, possessing multiple heads and horns, who is a strange combination of the beasts from Dan. 7. Though it is eerily familiar to readers, there is something different and unsettling about its appearance. John describes it in the following way: And I saw a beast coming out of the sea having ten horns and seven heads. And upon its horns were ten diadems and on its heads were blasphemous names. And the beast that I saw was like a leopard, its feet like a bear’s, and its mouth like the mouth of a lion. And the dragon gave it his power and throne and great authority. And one of its heads had the appearance as having been slain but its deadly wound was healed. (Rev. 13:1–3a)

Rather than the expected four individual monsters of Daniel’s vision, John describes here a “super-monster” that defies imagination.13 John’s new creation is itself an unheimlich act, as this challenges not only physical boundaries but textual ones as Daniel’s earlier beasts are combined into one body. This new beast has the body like a leopard, feet like a bear, and a mouth like a lion (Rev. 13:2). John’s monstrous composition is surprising as it deviates from the expected models set out in the psalms, prophets, and Daniel by refashioning the monster’s body in unexpected ways. I do not regard John’s monster as derivative compared to earlier models; they are hybrid and complex instances of creative reapplications and design rather than simple

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replications.14 Based on Ugaritic and ancient Jewish traditions of a serpentine sea monster, scholars identify this beast with Leviathan (KTU 1.3 III 38–46; 1.5 I 1–8; Job 41; Ps. 74:13–14; 89:10; Isa. 27:1; 51:9).15 In fact, John gives no indication of any specific serpentine features despite this frequent connection with Leviathan.16 Artists have illustrated this ambiguity through their varied presentations of the beast whose heads encapsulate a wide range of animals from serpents, goats, bears, and humans.17 The description of the monstrous body in Rev. 13 is incomplete and the language lacks precise definition resulting in a creature that refuses to coalesce for the reader.18 The lack of a name is significant in treatments of the monstrous as it reinforces the nonconformity of these creatures to predetermined and identifiable categories.19 According to Jeffrey Jerome Cohen, monsters are, “disturbing hybrids whose externally incoherent bodies resist attempts to include them in any systematic structuration. And so the monster is dangerous, a form suspended between forms that threatens to smash distinctions.”20 John’s beasts are menacing in their reordering of recognizable traits, as such, it is not always clear how to kill something you cannot classify.21 Monsters are often linked to the concept of the sublime, and as one scholar of Greek monsters argues these are “attempts to represent the unrepresentable.”22 John gives no concrete names to his monsters besides the label thērion. This term translated as “beasts” is used generically for animals (LXX Gen. 1:24; Ps. 104:11) but it can also designate more threatening creatures (Wis. 12:9; Mark 1:13).23 According to Dunstan Lowe, there is no single term that collectively refers to the abnormal or misshapen bodies of hybrid or composite beings in Greek and Roman mythology.24 The inability to categorize these monsters speaks to their sublime characters as abnormal bodies that invoke awe and fear with those that come into contact with them.25 This sense of wonder regarding the beasts’ appearance is recorded in the people’s reactions of amazement (Rev. 13:3; 17:8). Their encounter with the beasts leaves them asking the question, “Who is like the beast and who can fight against it?” signaling their awe and allegiance (Rev. 13:4, 12). The monster’s rejection of normative categories and boundaries has three primary implications for John’s creation of monsters. First, as noted above, the combination of Daniel’s four beasts into one “super-monster” indicates an increased level of threat.26 A common way to refer to Greek monsters was the term pelor denoting a creature of bulk or excess like Polyphemus or Scylla.27 Unlike the Dragon who is described as megas (Rev. 12:3), John gives no specifics as to the beast from the sea’s actual size. And yet, the amalgamation of Daniel’s four beasts leaves the impression of exaggerated proportions.28 Moreover, this presentation of an excessive monster predisposes one to view Rome as “the culmination of evil in the world” as compared to all empires that preceded it.29 Second, the composite nature of the monster’s body

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includes both features of sea and land animals. The majority of the beastly characteristics derive from land creatures but the origins in the sea identify its amphibian nature.30 The mobility of the monster is unhindered as it is not relegated to the sea but has access to both the water and the land.31 Moreover, though the periphery is the provenance of the monster, like Yeats’ “rough beast,” it cannot hold the beast for long as it advances to the center (Rev. 13:7–8). Finally, John’s monster is not just a combination of animals; instead, his creature also has human abilities, notably the capacity to speak. Similar to Daniel’s monster, the beast from the sea “was given a mouth uttering haughty and blasphemous words” (Rev. 13:5). The merging of the animal and human attests to the monster’s otherness and unnaturalness, as its very body testifies to a disturbing blurring of boundaries. The beasts of Rev. 13 do not exist in isolation but constantly interact with other divine figures through comparison and contrast in the narrative. Leonard L. Thompson argues that, “the Lamb and various beasts form dyadic relationships, that is, they become doubles, split images of some more fundamental wholeness.”32 This softening of the boundaries may not be intentional as John is thought to employ parody “to unmask imperial hybris.”33 These parodies or homologues are numerous and particularly draw parallels between the Lamb and the beast from the sea.34 John’s purpose in using parody is to mock the perceived authority of the beasts by revealing their deceptive natures.35 However, in the repeated use of parody and doubling, John also exposes the proximity of the beasts to other divine creatures. This uncanny resemblance between the Lamb and the beast from the sea is highlighted in the mortal wounds of both creatures, demonstrating their liminal natures that blur the boundaries between life and death (Rev. 5:6; 13:3). Their strange likenesses are also exemplified in the presentation of cosmic liminal locales as assembly points for the divine armies.36 The Dragon gathers his compatriots at the seashore (Rev. 13:1) while the Lamb stands with the 144,000 on Mount Zion (Rev. 14:1). The correspondence continues as the people who worship the Dragon and beasts receive a mark on their hand or forehead (Rev. 13:16–17) and the Lamb marks his followers’ foreheads with his name and the Father’s (Rev. 14:1). The repeated resemblances between these characters blur distinctions and introduces instability to the boundaries that are meant to separate these opposing entities. Though there are striking similarities between Daniel’s beasts and John’s monsters, the construction of their monstrous bodies betrays their different cultural contexts. Daniel’s audience was ruled by a foreign oppressive empire seeking their cultural annihilation;37 whereas in Asia Minor, Roman rule was initially sought out and welcomed.38 Unlike Daniel who focuses predominantly on the aggression and threat of the monsters, John also highlights the seductiveness and persuasive power of the Roman Empire in his presentation

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of the beasts. Both Daniel’s and John’s monsters break boundaries by seeking to overthrow the divine realm (Dan. 7:21; 8:9–11; Rev. 12:7–9) but John’s monsters are perceived as exceedingly cunning and enticing.39 The term “colony of occupation” is a more accurate reflection of the colonial situation in Asia Minor as the majority of inhabitants were indigenous and military presence was minimal.40 Stephen D. Moore notes that the cities of Asia Minor participated in their own subjugation by competing for the favors of Rome as typified by their support for the imperial cult.41 Thus, for John, the norm was allegiance to Rome and his construction of the monstrous body is not only a symbol for Rome but he connects them to Satan and the Devil (Rev. 12:9). The beasts’ otherness signals to John’s community a greater danger lying behind their appearance. Monsters are known as gatekeepers who prohibit entry to restricted areas by both their hybrid bodies and the threat they possess.42 John reinscribes boundaries using the monstrous body, demonstrating the limits of what is permissible and prohibiting access beyond. There is no room for assimilation or compromise for John, any accommodation with Roman culture is viewed as crossing this forbidden border embodied by the monster’s form. These “monsters of prohibition” are employed as a means of controlling a community by creating a strong sense of us versus them.43 THE BEAST FROM THE EARTH The Dragon and the beast from the sea are joined by another creature, the beast from the earth (Rev. 13:11–18). Like its partner, the beast from the sea, John gives no formal name to this monster. Scholars associate the beast from the earth with Behemoth, the mythological associate of Leviathan.44 References to Behemoth in the Hebrew Bible are few and many of them are highly debated.45 In a less contested passage, Job receives a description of Behemoth in the whirlwind speech from God, “Look at Behemoth, which I made as I made you; it feeds on grass like an ox. Look its strength is in its loins, and his power is in the muscles of its belly! Its tail is stiff like a cedar, the sinews of its thighs are knit together. Its bones are tubes of bronze, its limbs are like rods of iron” (Job 40:15–18).46 An overall picture of strength, virility, and size is underscored and yet a comprehensive visual image remains elusive. Unlike other monsters, its hybrid appearance is unclear, though “it feeds on grass like an ox” (Job 40:15) and is found both in watery and earthly habitats (Job 40:20–24). Scholars who search for a naturalistic understanding of Behemoth have typically understood it to represent a hippopotamus,47 a crocodile,48 or a water buffalo.49 Others propose that it is a mythological beast with no precedent in nature, drawing especially on Ugaritic parallels.50 Like many of John’s monsters, a variety of models gathered from the ancient Near

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East, Jewish traditions, and his present Greco-Roman setting are detected. In the end, all proposals remain speculations and the Behemoth, in typical monster fashion, escapes any attempts to categorize it.51 This earth creature of John’s, though likely inspired by the Behemoth, also remains stubbornly hazy in its outward appearance. John spends little time on its description simply stating, “it had horns like a lamb and it spoke like a dragon” (Rev. 13:11). Scholars argue that the lamb-like horns of this beast deliberately parodies the Lamb from Rev. 5, noting “its deceptively mild appearance” is at odds with the voice of a dragon issuing from it.52 However, when the monster is examined more closely, it becomes less certain how much John intends to mimic the Lamb. John simply describes the beast possessing horns that have the appearance of a lamb without any other physical descriptors assigned to its body. The reader is left in the dark as to the appearance of the rest of the creature. Does it have the body of a lamb? Is it a hybrid creature? Does it exhibit any human characteristics?53 If it speaks like a dragon, does it have any other serpentine traits? Identifying the beast from the earth too quickly or solely with that of the Lamb in Rev. 5 is to misread its body or rather the lack of a monstrous body. I am not arguing against the use of parody here but simply issuing a caution in assuming too much about the beast from the earth’s appearance. It is quite possible that a faint echo of the Lamb is intended by John, but this parody should not obscure the monster itself. The impulse to recognize the beast and subsequently categorize it testifies to the need for concrete categories even when discussing monsters.54 A precedent for such an ambiguous monster, is found in Dan. 7 where the fourth beast stands out from the other three monsters who are described resembling familiar animals like the lion, eagle, bear, and leopard (Dan. 7:4–6). All that is revealed about the fourth monster is that it is horned, possesses iron teeth, and has exceedingly strong legs (Dan. 7:7). Like John’s beast from the earth, this fourth creature lacks concrete physical description, though its threatening and destructive actions are highlighted.55 John’s beast from the earth is essentially unknowable even though there are partial links to Behemoth and other monstrous creatures in Revelation. In stark contrast to the beast from the sea (Rev. 13:1–10), this second beast is at best a shadowy figure. Cohen captures the nebulous nature of the monster well: “monstrous interpretation is as much process as epiphany, a work that must content itself with fragments (footprints, bones, talismans, teeth, shadows, obscured glimpses—signifiers of monstrous passing that stand in for the monstrous body itself).”56 John is no stranger to creative representations of the sublime and monstrous body; however, with the beast from the earth he fails to give it form or substance.57 Yet, it is this gap of representation that truly embodies the monstrous nature of this earth beast, who is virtually unrecognizable.58 Scholars have suggested a wide variety of possible

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identities for the beast including: the koinon (provincial council),59 the imperial priesthood,60 Roman government officials,61 or simply a general collective term for those that support the cult.62 This beast is likely not limited to one entity but represents the interconnected networks that comprised the imperial system stretching into all aspects of everyday life.63 As with its ambiguous physical description, this lack of a concrete identity also becomes a sign of its monstrosity and threat. It is impossible to root out the beast’s control as its influence reaches everywhere even into the assemblies addressed by John. Although the physical descriptors of the beast from the earth are limited, John elaborates on its power over society (Rev. 13:12–17). The actions of the monster are particularly intriguing as it works in the shadows, orchestrating events unseen through the actions of other beasts, reminiscent of “the man behind the curtain” from the Wizard of Oz. John reveals to his community the dangers of following the beast, as it “exercises all the authority of the first beast on its behalf, and it makes the earth and its inhabitants worship the first beast” (Rev. 13:12). This beast from the earth becomes a conduit to direct worship to the beast from the sea rather than receiving the worship itself. John also highlights its deceptive nature as it performs great signs that include calling fire from heaven (Rev. 13:15). These marvels are convincing, and it is these signs that build the people’s confidence in the beast as they heed its commands to build an image of the first beast (Rev. 13:14). Finally, it also creates new life in the form of the image of the beast by breathing and animating this new monstrous incarnation to do its will (Rev. 13:15–17). Once again, the beast from the land hides from view, as attention is placed on this image of the first beast that is animated and has power over others’ actions. John’s beast from the earth remains on the periphery of the text obscured behind other creatures, leaving little trace of itself. This liminal experience of the beast from the land, who lives in the shadows of others, is a helpful description of John’s view of the insidiousness of the postcolonial experience in Asia Minor. By highlighting the actions of the beast and putting some flesh to it, he attempts to reveal and expose it to his community. Empire was so deeply enmeshed in the average person’s life that knowing where the boundaries began and ended was impossible. Participation in both the provincial and local imperial cults had a significant impact on one’s political (and by extension) economic success.64 Jewish groups were not necessarily sectarian in nature but were integrated as part of the imperial state in Asia Minor. Evidence collected from various cities demonstrates that positive relationships with the empire and Jewish groups were not uncommon. These included monetary donations (Smyrna), physical spaces to gather (Josephus, Ant. 14.259–61), a synagogue located within imperial complexes (Sardis) and even participation in the gymnasium (Hypaipa, Iasos, Eumeneia).65 This positive relationship with empire also extended to early

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Christian groups as exemplified by 1 Peter’s call “to honor the emperor,” whether through good works or honors.66 Philip A. Harland argues that this assimilation with the polis was normative for many Jews and Christians prompting John’s rhetoric that accommodation with empire was “an utterly unacceptable compromise with evil.”67 John’s audience is not homogenous as he addresses a wide variety of groups beyond the faithful whose resistance to the imperial cult mirrors his own views. There is also likely “the invisible majority” who are the main target of John’s rhetoric, as he seeks to turn them against Jezebel’s leadership.68 John charges Jezebel with allowing the eating of sacrificial meat; however, abstaining from food sacrificed to idols would prove almost impossible. Not only would people encounter it in the market, at social events, at voluntary associations but also at festivals where sacrificial meat was provided for the populace.69 The early assemblies addressed by John were entangled in empire and his beast from the earth exemplifies the deep interconnectedness of their colonial experience. THE IMAGE OF THE BEAST It is customary for scholars of Revelation to speak of the Dragon and the two beasts as a type of “unholy trinity.”70 The impulse behind this widespread identification is rooted in scholarly efforts to identify John’s use of parody in juxtaposing the Dragon and beasts with God and the Lamb.71 However, the term “trinity” though catchy is anachronistic and ultimately fails to represent the complexity of monstrous forms. The hunt for parodies obscures a subsequent monster, hidden behind the more prominent Dragon and beasts. Rather than a trinity, I propose that there are four monsters in the narrative: the red Dragon (Rev. 12:3–18), the beast from the sea (Rev. 13:1–10), the beast from the earth (Rev. 13:11–18), and the image of the beast (Rev. 13:14–17).72 John’s lesser-known monster, the image of the beast created first by people but given life by the beast from the earth (Rev. 13:14–15), is not typically considered alongside the other beasts. Scholars have focused on its historic background as a cult image primarily investigating the evidence for animated statues that could speak and move in the ancient world (Rev. 13:15).73 However, the line between the animate and inanimate in antiquity was not always clearly defined. Reflecting on objects in antiquity, Maia Kotrosits observes, “the fluidity between god, human, and object often reflects on or interrupts proclaimed or accepted realities.”74 Statues and icons could become animated in what Patricia Cox Miller labels “corporeal imagination,” a process where the reader’s imagination enlivens the text or object.75 Likewise, John does not question this surprising animation of the beast’s image, rather he communicates his terror that the beasts have the ability to replicate

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themselves. Regardless of the literalness of this image and its animation, it functions as an important symbol for John.76 Its creation is proof of the power of the beasts that threaten to contaminate others as represented by the iconic mark of the beast (Rev. 13:16–18). The following section outlines the monstrous qualities of this image, arguing that it like John’s previous beasts exemplifies a hybrid and liminal nature. The ability to create life is reserved for divine beings (Deut. 32:39) and human efforts to create images or idols are viewed as an abomination and overt rejection of God. Ezekiel’s use of the term (toevot) that translates as “detestable things” communicates this strong language of disgust and censure (Ezek. 8:6). This same revulsion and sense of unnaturalness is exemplified in Mary Shelley’s novel Frankenstein when the scientist views his own creation for the first time. He begins with a sense of wonder and yet ends with abjection stating, “the beauty of the dream vanished, and breathless horror and disgust filled my heart.”77 Similarly, the beast now gives breath or spirit (pneuma) to the image, typically understood as a parody of God’s own creative powers (Gen. 2–3; c.f. Rev. 11:11). Moreover, John portrays the people’s complicity as they are compelled by the beast from the earth to create an image (Rev. 13:14). This monstrous creation serves as a warning to John’s audience that any accommodation with Rome results in crossing boundaries. The extent of the image’s abilities is ambiguous, and it is difficult to know with certainty what John envisioned. Verse 15 states, “and it was allowed to give breath to the image of the beast so that the image of the beast could even speak and that whoever does not worship the image of the beast would be killed.” The ability to speak is likely connected to the giving of oracles that frequently characterized such animated statues.78 It is not clear who causes the death of those that refuse to worship the image. Logically one might assume the beast from earth is responsible as it is the subject of the next verse where it marks people with the name of the beast (Rev. 13:16–18). However, the subject of “he might cause to be killed” corresponds to “he might speak” in verse 15, allowing the possibility that it is the image of the beast who is responsible.79 Though it is unclear how to read the animation of the image, it is implicated along with the beasts as it participates in the deception of the people. The lines between these monsters are blurred, their identities merging and shifting as they recreate and morph from one figure to another. An important feature of monsters is that they partake in what Carroll labels “horrific metonymy,” which entails the contamination and spread of the monstrous form.80 Monsters do not appear in isolation but are accompanied by other objects or entities that are considered disgusting. The “three foul spirits like frogs” that emerge from the mouth of the Dragon, the beast, and the false prophet are other examples of the contaminating effect of the monster (Rev. 16:13).81

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A key focus for John in the latter part of Revelation is the apprehension of the Dragon and the beasts. However, the image of the beast quietly disappears from view as John does not comment on its punishment.82 There is no mention of its relegation to the abyss or the lake of fire, and no destruction of this entity, thereby remaining a potential threat. Monsters are difficult to kill even when they receive a deathblow, as is evidenced by the beast from the sea. Cohen remarks on the elusiveness of the monstrous form, “the monster itself turns immaterial and vanishes, to reappear somewhere else.”83 The very interstitial nature of monsters, which do not fit into expected classifications, allows them to avoid capture.84 This is true of the image of the beast, who is caught between categories—a monstrous creature and yet also an object. Monsters are truly terrifying because they are not static entities but shift and change over time. The image of the beast defies classification, and thus, it eludes capture, and it disappears from the view of the author and audience.85 SPECTACLES & PUNISHMENT A monster tale traditionally requires a hero or heroine to slay the creature. As Michael Ende, the writer of The Neverending Story says, “monsters are indispensable if a hero is to be a hero.”86 Heracles, in his twelve labors, defeats a multitude of monsters including the Nemean lion, the Hydra of Lerna, and the monstrous birds of the Stymphalian marshes. St. George, another iconic hero, returns home triumphant after slaying the dragon and rescuing the princess. These binary roles, the hero versus the monster, sets up a dichotomy of us versus them that necessitates the destruction of one party. As Margery Hourihan argues, “It does not envisage the possibility of rapprochement between the hero and his opponents for the aim of the wild things, as the story tells it, is always to destroy him.”87 As noted previously, this pattern is as ancient as the Enuma Elish, where Tiamat is depicted as the monster and Marduk is crowned the triumphant hero. And yet, as scholars increasingly argue, the ascription of hero to Marduk is dubious as he is just as monstrous as Tiamat.88 Heroes and monsters have more in common than writers are comfortable to disclose, and John’s Apocalypse reveals a similar unease with the shared characteristics of divine beings. While John has employed parody to expose the deceptive natures of the Dragon and the beasts, he also must vanquish these monsters to confirm their powerlessness in comparison to God and the Lamb. Harry O. Maier argues that John invites the reader into the story as spectators who witness an extraordinary staging of apocalyptic drama.89 Christopher Frilingos concurs with this assessment and additionally suggests a comparison with the Roman spectacle of the arena.90 For Maier, this display is part of

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John’s rhetorical technique, “John invites his audience to side for or against these characters, to be moved by their performances, to be persuaded by his message, and to pursue his goals.”91 The climax of the spectacle is the imprisonment and torture of the monstrous beings at the end of Revelation. The punishment of the antagonists unfolds in reverse order to their original appearances. Thus, John begins with the horrific dismemberment of Woman Babylon (Rev. 17) before preceding to the imprisonment of the beasts (Rev. 19:20) and the Dragon (Rev. 20:1). Safwat Marzouk, examining the punishment of the monstrous form in Ezekiel, concludes that it creates boundaries and re-establishes community identity.92 Similarly, in Revelation, the imprisonment of the monster by divine agents is intended to reinstate order, but more importantly confirms for John and his followers that the Roman Empire is ultimately powerless against God and the Lamb. As a colonized person, John writes a new narrative where he inverts the normal experience of the colonized and instead it is the colonizer that is humiliated and debased. The Dragon and the beasts are not automatically killed, instead John demonstrates their containment by divine beings as they are removed and relocated from the center to the periphery: Then I saw the beast and the kings of the earth, and their armies gathered to make war against the rider on the horse and against his army. And the beast was captured, and with it the false prophet who had performed signs in its presence by which he deceived those who had received the mark of the beast and those who worshipped its image, these two were thrown alive into the lake of fire burning with sulfur. (Rev. 19:19–20)

The battle lines are drawn but the scene is anticlimactic as the beast and false prophet are captured right away and thrown into the lake of fire (Rev. 19:20; 20:10). Craig R. Koester argues that the quick capture of the beast and prophet signals their weakness as John ascribes the shameful label of captive to them.93 There is a significant distinction of the treatment of the beast and prophet in contrast to the kings of the earth. John records that the beast and false prophet are kept alive while the rest (the kings of the earth) are destroyed by the sword from the Rider’s mouth (Rev. 19:21). Likewise, the Dragon (also called Satan and the Devil) is seized by an angel and locked in the abyss for a thousand years (Rev. 20:1–3).94 Though the Dragon is released from the abyss (Rev. 20:7), he is quickly defeated and thrown into the lake of fire along with the beast and false prophet to suffer eternally (Rev. 20:10). John re-establishes the New Jerusalem as the center (Rev. 21:9–22:5) and God and the Lamb become the temple (Rev. 21:22). John’s monsters are not simply contained but are later annihilated by divine beings. Commentators argue that the second death that is the lake of

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fire is the end for the Dragon and the beasts.95 John writes after the Book of Life is opened: And the sea gave up the dead that were in it, and Death and Hades gave up the dead that were in them, and each one was judged according to their deeds. And Death and Hades were thrown into the lake of fire. This is the second death. And whoever was not found written in the Book of Life was thrown into the lake of fire. (Rev. 20:13–15)

In this text, it is Death and Hades that are thrown into the lake of fire along with anyone whose name is not found in the Book of Life. The common interpretation is that this signals annihilation rather than eternal torture. And yet, by the time the Dragon joins the beast and the false prophet in the lake of fire (Rev. 20:10), they have already been languishing there for a thousand years.96 The text reiterates that they will be tortured day and night, not simply the Dragon. It begs the question of whether they are actually annihilated or suffer without end. The ambiguity and instability in the text only continues with the description of the New Jerusalem that includes the following, “Blessed are those who wash their robes, so that they will have the right to the tree of life and may enter through the gates into the city. Outside are the dogs and sorcerers and fornicators and murderers and idolaters, and everyone who loves and practises falsehood” (Rev. 22:14). Tina Pippin argues that the threat of the monstrous is only kept at bay and the possibility remains for the monsters’ eventual return.97 Even in this new world, disaster continues to threaten, the monstrous is only temporarily contained. CONCLUSION This chapter opened with Yeats’ poem The Second Coming as a means of approaching the monstrous as uncanny. The poem begins with a picture of apocalypse, “Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world.”98 Though the images of blood and violence are horrific, the truly eerie and disorienting moment occurs in the third stanza. It is after the apocalypse and the expectation of the second coming that the poet recounts the birth of the monster. This poem captures the cyclical nature of apocalyptic thought—that empires will rise and fall—and the world will descend again into chaos. Jewish apocalypses conceive of their oppressors as monsters that are killed, some in horrific ways, but on the horizon another beast always slouches toward them, whether it is Antiochus IV or the Roman Empire. The tendency is to read the coming of the New Jerusalem as the end of evil and chaos, but John leaves the door open to this question.

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John is a creator of monsters, taking pieces of tradition and weaving them into new hybrid and liminal beings. His creatures serve as warnings to a community unsure of the line between worship and idolatry. John models for the assemblies what he sees as the correct response to the monstrous: abjection and annihilation. However, the scenes of destruction leave open many questions, and it is not clear if the beasts and Dragon are truly vanquished. Monsters have a tendency to return and John’s use of this ancient conflict myth demonstrates its longevity and endurance. Moreover, the dangers of the monster are the twin responses of fascination and revulsion that it invokes. John’s goal is to reorient his audience’s gaze toward the throne room but his own fascination with the beasts persists in the narrative. These ambivalent attitudes continue in the long and fruitful afterlives of the Dragon and beasts in Jewish and Christian traditions. Though John has relegated them to the lake of fire, they continually rise again in popular culture to represent contemporary figures of enmity. Whether the beasts are resurrected as part of Protestant polemic against Catholics99 or modern politicians like Barack Obama are maligned as the “anti-Christ,”100 these beasts refuse to die.

NOTES 1. William Butler Yeats, “The Second Coming,” in The Collected Works of W.B. Yeats Volume I: The Poems: Revised Second Edition, ed. Richard J. Finneran (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1996), 187. 2. Nick Tabor, “No Slouch,” The Paris Review (blog), April 7, 2015, https​:/​/ ww​​w​.the​​paris​​revie​​w​.org​​/blog​​/2015​​/04​/0​​7​​/no-​​slouc​​h/. 3. In Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart, the beast is the West encroaching upon Nigerian culture and way of life. For more examples see, Tabor. 4. John Unterecker, A Reader’s Guide to William Butler Yeats (Noonday Press: Syracuse University Press, 1959), 165. 5. I was first introduced to Yeats’ poem through David Penchansky’s work that examines the monstrous nature of God in the Hebrew Bible (David Penchansky, What Rough Beast?: Images of God in the Hebrew Bible [Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1999], 4). 6. Yeats, “The Second Coming,” 187. 7. Heather Macumber, “The Threat of Empire: Monstrous Hybridity in Revelation 13,” Biblical Interpretation 27, no. 1 (2019): 107–29. 8. The “sea” (thalassa) can simply imply the Mediterranean; however, it also can represent the primordial sea. Other examples of thalassa as a cosmic entity rather than the physical sea are found in Rev. 4:6; 13:1; 15:2; 20:13; 21:1. 9. Debra Scoggins Ballentine, The Conflict Myth and the Biblical Tradition (New York: Oxford University Press, 2015), 92–98.

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10. Richard J. Clifford notes “Sea is personified as a hostile warrior fleeing before the divinely led march of Israel” (Richard J. Clifford, Psalms 1-72, Abingdon Old Testament Commentaries [Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2002], 31). 11. For a helpful overview, see Ballentine, The Conflict Myth and the Biblical Tradition, 98–108. 12. G. K. Beale, The Use of Daniel in Jewish Apocalyptic Literature and in the Revelation of St. John (Eugene: Wipf and Stock, 2010), 229–49. 13. Macumber, “The Threat of Empire,” 121. 14. Michelle Fletcher, Reading Revelation as Pastiche: Imitating the Past, Library of New Testament Studies 571 (New York: Bloomsbury T&T Clark, 2017). 15. Hermann Gunkel, Creation and Chaos in the Primeval Era and the Eschaton: A Religio-Historical Study of Genesis 1 and Revelation 12, trans. K. William Whitney Jr., The Biblical Resource Series (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2006), 51–61; Adela Yarbro Collins, The Combat Myth in the Book of Revelation (Missoula: Scholars Press, 1976), 164–65; David E. Aune, Revelation 6-16, Word Biblical Commentary 52B (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 1998), 732–33; Steven J. Friesen, “Myth and Symbolic Resistance in Revelation 13,” Journal of Biblical Literature 123, no. 2 (2004): 304–8. 16. Other ancient water monsters have predominantly serpentine heads including the Hydra (Apollodorus, Bibliotheca, 2.5.2) and Scylla (Homer, Odyssey 12.89). However, Ogden notes that some sources show a humanoid Scylla with the upper body of a woman and a fish tail (Daniel Ogden, Dragons, Serpents, and Slayers in the Classical and Early Christian Worlds: A Sourcebook [Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013], 181). I am not arguing against an identification with Leviathan but simply noting the lack of John’s descriptions surrounding the monster’s appearance. 17. The multiple necks tend to be long and sinuous in artistic representations like that of a snake but this detail is not included explicitly in John’s descriptions. 18. The descriptions for the beasts are vague as John describes them “like a dragon” or “like a lamb” using the Greek term (homoios) indicating similarity or comparison but lacking in precision. This is reminiscent of Ezek. 1 where the living creatures are described as having the “appearance of” or “the likeness” of actual animals. This “beast from the sea” reappears elsewhere in John’s Apocalypse most notably as the scarlet beast that Woman Babylon rides upon in Rev. 17. This beast also resembles the earlier description of the Dragon from Rev. 12, another example of John’s echoes and reuse of traditions. 19. Maria Beville, The Unnameable Monster in Literature and Film (London and New York: Routledge, 2013), 70–100. I have also discussed this phenomenon in relation to Antiochus IV as monster in Dan. 7 (Heather Macumber, “A Monster without a Name: Creating the Beast Known as Antiochus IV in Daniel 7,” The Journal of Hebrew Scriptures 15 [2015]). 20. Jeffrey Jerome Cohen, “Monster Culture (Seven Theses),” in Monster Theory: Reading Culture, ed. Jeffrey Jerome Cohen (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1996), 6. 21. Beville argues that once a monster is classified, it becomes part of a system with rules to defeat and contain it (Beville, The Unnameable Monster in Literature and Film, 5–6).

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22. Dunstan Lowe, Monsters and Monstrosity in Augustan Poetry (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2015), 40. 23. Craig R. Koester, Revelation: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary, Anchor Yale Bible 38A (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2014), 568. 24. Lowe, Monsters and Monstrosity in Augustan Poetry, 8. 25. Monsters were commonly viewed as marvels and subjects of fascination found especially on the edges of the world in exotic locales. See Chet Van Duzer, “Hic sunt dracones: The Geography and Cartography of Monsters,” in The Ashgate Research Companion to Monsters and the Monstrous, ed. Asa Simon Mittman and Peter Dendle (Farnham: Ashgate, 2012), 387–435. The label “monstrous races” was applied to civilizations deemed other or strange by early travelers and historians (John Block Friedman, The Monstrous Races in Medieval Art and Thought [Syracuse: Syracuse University Press, 2000], 5–25). 26. Beale notes that the combination in Rev. 13 implies “extreme oppressiveness and temporal transcendence” (G. K. Beale, The Book of Revelation: A Commentary on the Greek Text, New International Greek Testament Commentary [Grand Rapids: W. B. Eerdmans, 1999], 685). 27. Emma Aston, Mixanthrôpoi: Animal-Human Hybrid Deities in Greek Religion, Kernos Supplément 25 (Liège: Centre International d’Étude de la Religion Grecque Antique, 2011), 12; Lowe, Monsters and Monstrosity in Augustan Poetry, 8. 28. This notion of the immensity of the beasts is a common feature of artistic interpretations (Natasha O’Hear and Anthony O’Hear, Picturing the Apocalypse: The Book of Revelation in the Arts over Two Millennia [Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015], 138–39, 153). 29. Steven J. Friesen, Imperial Cults and the Apocalypse of John: Reading Revelation in the Ruins (Oxford University Press, 2001), 175. 30. Macumber, “The Threat of Empire,” 121. 31. The Hydra also had the ability to leave the swamp of Lerna to hunt for cattle on the plain (Apollodorus, Bibliotheca, 2.5.2). 32. Leonard L. Thompson, The Book of Revelation: Apocalypse and Empire (New York: Oxford University Press, 1990), 81. 33. Greg Carey, Elusive Apocalypse: Reading Authority in the Revelation to John, Studies in American Biblical Hermeneutics 15 (Macon: Mercer University Press, 1999), 154. 34. These parodies include the following: (1) both the beast from the sea and the lamb have multiple horns wearing diadems (Rev. 5:6; 13:1); (2) the beast from the sea and the lamb suffer from mortal wounds that are healed (Rev. 5:6; 13:3, 12, 14); (3) the phrase “Who is like the beast, and who can make war against it?” deliberately recalls similar expressions reserved for God (Exod. 15:11; Ps. 35:10). For a full list of the parodies, see Sophie Susan Laws, In the Light of the Lamb: Imagery, Parody, and Theology in the Apocalypse of John (Eugene: Wipf and Stock, 2014), 41–43. 35. Friesen, Imperial Cults and the Apocalypse of John, 204; Sarah Emanuel, Humor, Resistance, and Jewish Cultural Persistence in the Book of Revelation: Roasting Rome (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2020).

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36. The mortal wounds of both the Lamb (Rev. 5:6) and the beast (Rev. 13:3) also draw them closer together (Thompson, The Book of Revelation, 81–82). 37. Anathea E. Portier-Young, Apocalypse Against Empire: Theologies of Resistance in Early Judaism (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2014). 38. Stephen D. Moore, Untold Tales from the Book of Revelation: Sex and Gender, Empire and Ecology, Resources for Biblical Study 79 (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2014), 18. 39. The mortal wound of the beast provokes a reaction of amazement rather than terror at least initially (Rev. 13:3-4). 40. Moore, Untold Tales from the Book of Revelation, 17. 41. Moore, Untold Tales from the Book of Revelation, 18. 42. Cohen, “Monster Culture (Seven Theses),” 12. 43. Cohen, “Monster Culture (Seven Theses),” 12–13. 44. Aune, Revelation 6-16, 755; Brian K. Blount, Revelation: A Commentary, The New Testament Library (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 256; Friesen, “Myth and Symbolic Resistance in Revelation 13,” 304–8. 45. The term behemoth can also be translated as the plural for cattle leading to confusion whether the creature Behemoth is intended (B. F. Batto, “Behemoth,” in Dictionaries of Deities and Demons, ed. Karel van der Toorn, Bob Becking, and Pieter W. van der Horst [Leiden: Brill, 1995], 165–69). 46. The Behemoth also appears in 1 En. 60:7–9, 4 Ezra 6:49–52, and 2 Bar. 29:3–4. See K. William Whitney Jr., Two Strange Beasts: Leviathan and Behemoth in Second Temple and Early Rabbinic Judaism, Harvard Semitic Monographs 63 (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2006). 47. David J. A. Clines, Job 38–42, Word Biblical Commentary 18b (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 2011), 1185–86. 48. G. R. Driver, Mythical Monsters in the Old Testament, Studi Orientalistici in Onore de Giorgio Levi Della Vida 1 (Rome: Instito per L’Oriente, 1956), 234–38. 49. Bernard Couroyer, “Qui est Béhémoth: Job 40:15-24?,” Revue biblique 82, no. 3 (1975): 418–43. 50. Gunkel, Creation and Chaos in the Primeval Era and the Eschaton, 39–43; Mary K. Wakeman, “Biblical Earth Monster in the Cosmogonic Combat Myth,” Journal of Biblical Literature 88, no. 3 (September 1969): 313–20; Mary K. Wakeman, God’s Battle with the Monster: A Study in Biblical Imagery (Leiden: Brill Archive, 1973), 106–17; John Day, God’s Conflict with the Dragon and the Sea: Echoes of a Canaanite Myth in the Old Testament, University of Cambridge Oriental Publications 35 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985), 75–84. 51. Perhaps Blake’s representation of Behemoth in his engravings of the book of Job should be considered alongside that of conventional biblical scholars. His Behemoth is a hybrid creation composed of known animals like a hippopotamus and a lion. However, most extraordinary is the presence of a human-shaped ear on the beast implying a hybridity that goes beyond the animal. See Kurt Fosso, “‘Feet of Beasts’: Tracking the Animal in Blake,” European Romantic Review 25, no. 2 (2014): 113–14. 52. Koester, Revelation, 590.

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53. It should be noted here that John speaks interchangeably of the beast of the land and the false prophet showing how the beastly imagery is superimposed upon the human representation (Rev. 16:13; 19:20; 20:20). 54. Beville argues that once a monster is named or categorized “it enters a schema with rules for how the monster can be contained and repelled and which delineate its existence in a most basic way. The monster is thus reduced to the level of ‘stocktype’ character. Named, it is no longer unpredictable. Its Otherness is contained and managed and in its new form, as a label, ‘the monster’ is ready to be commercialized, marketed and sold” (Beville, The Unnameable Monster in Literature and Film, 5–6). 55. Macumber, “A Monster without a Name,” 21–22. 56. Cohen, “Monster Culture (Seven Theses),” 6. 57. Additionally, the beast from the earth is also linked to the false prophet (Rev. 16:13; 19:20; 20:10) complicating the form and nature of the beast. 58. Maria Beville describes the lack and otherness of the monstrous form that are missing physical descriptors referring to the work of Lacan and Žižek (Beville, The Unnameable Monster in Literature and Film, 70). 59. G. B. Caird, A Commentary on the Revelation of St. John the Divine, Black’s New Testament Commentaries (London: Black, 1966), 171; François Bovon, “Possession ou Enchantement. Les Institutions Romaines selon l’Apocalypse de Jean,” in Révélations et écritures: Nouveau Testament et littérature apocryphe chrétienne (Geneva: Labor et Fides, 1993), 137–38. 60. R. H. Charles, A Critical and Exegetical Commentary on the Revelation of St. John, vol. 1 (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1920), 343, 357; Aune, Revelation 6-16, 756. 61. William M. Ramsay, The Letters to the Seven Churches of Asia and Their Place in the Plan of the Apocalypse (London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1904), 96. 62. G. R. Beasley-Murray, The Book of Revelation, New Century Bible (London: Oliphants, 1974), 216–17; Jürgen Roloff, The Revelation of John, Continental Commentaries (Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 1993), 161. 63. Steven J. Friesen, “The Beast from the Land: Revelation 13:11-18 and Social Setting,” in Reading the Book of Revelation: A Resource for Students, ed. David L. Barr (Brill: Leiden, 2004), 63. 64. Friesen, “The Beast from the Land,” 49–64. 65. Philip A. Harland, “Honouring the Emperor or Assailing the Beast: Participation in Civic Life Among Associations (Jewish, Christian and Other) in Asia Minor and the Apocalypse of John,” Journal for the Study of the New Testament 22, no. 77 (2000): 108–9. 66. Harland, “Honouring the Emperor or Assailing the Beast,” 115. 67. Harland, “Honouring the Emperor or Assailing the Beast,” 118. 68. Paul B. Duff, Who Rides the Beast?: Prophetic Rivalry and the Rhetoric of Crisis in the Churches of the Apocalypse (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 48. 69. Duff, Who Rides the Beast?, 51–55. 70. Robert H. Mounce, The Book of Revelation, New International Commentary on the New Testament (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998), 374; Ben Witherington III, Revelation (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003), 180, 209–11;

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Moore, Untold Tales from the Book of Revelation, 29. Others refer to them as the “evil trinity” (M. Eugene Boring, Revelation, Interpretation [Louisville: John Knox Press, 1989], 154–56). Some also use “Satanic trinity,” see Richard Bauckham, The Theology of the Book of Revelation (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993), 89, 114; Beale, The Book of Revelation, 1028. Similar terminology, “the trinity of terror” has also found its way into monster theory (Stephen T. Asma, On Monsters : An Unnatural History of Our Worst Fears [Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009], 67). 71. Joe E. Lunceford, Parody and Counterimaging in the Apocalypse (Eugene: Wipf and Stock, 2009), 245–51. 72. I first proposed this argument in an earlier article (Macumber, “The Threat of Empire,” 125). In fact, as argued in the previous chapter I would also include the Woman clothed with the sun as well as the Earth itself from Rev. 12 as further monstrous entities. 73. Aune, Revelation 6-16, 762–66; Blount, Revelation, 258–59; Steven J. Scherrer, “Signs and Wonders in the Imperial Cult: A New Look at a Roman Religious Institution in the Light of Rev 13:13-15,” Journal of Biblical Literature 103, no. 4 (December 1984): 599–610; Beale, The Book of Revelation, 711–15. 74. Maia Kotrosits, The Lives of Objects: Material Culture, Experience, and the Real in the History of Early Christianity (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2020), 27. 75. Patricia Cox Miller, The Corporeal Imagination: Signifying the Holy in Late Ancient Christianity (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2009), 7–8. See Kotrosits’ analysis of Miller especially relating to Pygmalion and the Gospel of Peter (Kotrosits, The Lives of Objects, 25–30). 76. The merging of monster and object should come as no surprise since this has already featured in John’s presentation of the Son of Man, potentially the jeweled God on the throne, and the living creatures. 77. Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley and J. Paul Hunter, Frankenstein: The 1818 Text, Contexts, Nineteenth-Century Responses, Modern Criticism (New York: W.W. Norton, 1996), 34. 78. Aune, Revelation 6-16, 764. 79. Aune, Revelation 6-16, 765; Mounce, The Book of Revelation, 258. 80. Noel Carroll, The Philosophy of Horror: Or, Paradoxes of the Heart (New York: Routledge, 2003), 51–52. 81. Stephen D. Moore, “Retching on Rome: Vomitous Loathing and Visceral Disgust in Affect Theory and the Apocalypse of John,” Biblical Interpretation 22, no. 4–5 (2014): 517–18. 82. Macumber, “The Threat of Empire,” 126. 83. Cohen, “Monster Culture (Seven Theses),” 4. 84. Cohen, “Monster Culture (Seven Theses),” 5. 85. This is reminiscent of Frankenstein’s monster, who after witnessing the death of Victor Frankenstein simply vanishes into the arctic. In Mary Shelley’s words, “He was soon borne away by the waves, and lost in darkness and distance” (Shelley and Hunter, Frankenstein, 156).

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86. Michael Ende, The Neverending Story (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1984), 231. Margery Hourihan uses this quote in her discussion of symbolic wild things (Margery Hourihan, Deconstructing the Hero: Literary Theory and Children’s Literature [London: Routledge, 2005], 107). 87. Hourihan, Deconstructing the Hero, 107. 88. Ballentine, The Conflict Myth and the Biblical Tradition, 186–89. 89. Harry O. Maier, Apocalypse Recalled: The Book of Revelation After Christendom (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2002), 74. 90. Christopher A. Frilingos, Spectacles of Empire: Monsters, Martyrs, and the Book of Revelation, Divinations (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2004), 42. 91. Maier, Apocalypse Recalled, 74. 92. Safwat Marzouk, Egypt as a Monster in the Book of Ezekiel, Forschungen zum Alten Testament. 2. Reihe 76 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2015), 59. 93. Koester, Revelation, 767–68. 94. In Second Temple Jewish texts, the abyss is the realm of punishment and containment for demons guarded by angelic beings (Kelley Coblentz Bautch, “Heavenly Beings Brought Low: A Study of Angels and the Netherworld,” in Angels: The Concept of Celestial Beings—Origins, Development and Reception, ed. F. W. Reiterer, Tobias Nicklas, and K. Schöpflin, Deuterocanonical and Cognate Literature [Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2007], 459–75). 95. Beale argues that the punishment of the beasts is in fact eternal but that “the description of judgment does not suggest that two literal individuals are cast bodily into the fire, but only that all who function in the corporate role of beast and false prophet at the end of history will be punished in this way” (Beale, The Book of Revelation, 969, 1028–29). While I agree that the punishment of the beasts appears more ambivalent, Beale’s argument of their corporate nature is more tenuous. Other humans like the kings of the earth do not suffer eternally but are quickly dispatched by the Rider on the horse (Rev. 19:21). 96. Beale disagrees with this reading and understands Rev. 20:10 to be a recapitulation of Rev. 19:20 (Beale, The Book of Revelation, 1028). 97. Tina Pippin, “‘Behold, I Stand at the Door and Knock’: The Living Dead and Apocalyptic Dystopia,” The Bible & Critical Theory 6, no. 3 (2010): 40.5. 98. Yeats, “The Second Coming,” 187. 99. Cranach’s illustrations of Revelation often adorn the beasts with a papal triple tiara (O’Hear and O’Hear, Picturing the Apocalypse, 148). 100. O’Hear and O’Hear, Picturing the Apocalypse, 152–53.

Chapter 7

Woman Babylon An Abjected Creature

Gaze not upon her, lest thou be as she . . .1 Christina Rossetti, Babylon the Great

The last monstrous figure to consider is Woman Babylon, the ultimate symbol of evil and corruption for John.2 She represents empire, a system of oppression and excess, and most importantly a worldview incompatible with faithfulness to God and the Lamb (at least in John’s eyes). Woman Babylon is described as actively intoxicating the nations with the wrath of her fornication (Rev. 14:8; 17:2) and is charged with drinking the blood of the saints (Rev. 17:6). According to John, there is no denying her culpability and he further elaborates on her corruptions, both moral and economic, in the lament of chapter 18.3 Woman Babylon becomes for John a cipher of the threat of empire that has invaded the assemblies of Asia Minor especially through the figure of Jezebel of Thyatira.4 Multiple scholars note the problematic binary representation of women in John’s Apocalypse as the line between metaphor and real women becomes a site of uncertainty.5 Conversely, Elizabeth Schüssler Fiorenza argues against identifying the metaphor of Babylon with actual wo/men and notes “a gender reading does not destabilize but rather literalizes the gender inscriptions of Revelation.”6 She is directly engaging with scholars that problematize and criticize John’s use of feminine metaphors as indicative of his own misogyny.7 In contrast, Catherine Keller concludes, “But to claim that because the text does not intend misogyny it is innocent of its metaphoric subtext is to sweep women’s ashes under the carpet.”8 My analysis is more sympathetic with the latter readings, seeing the value in reexamining John’s use of metaphors especially when their rhetorical function is intended to dehumanize. Moreover, John deliberately links these feminine 143

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images to the monstrous, furthering an identification of Woman Babylon with the uncanny and horrific, thereby prompting a closer look at his metaphoric language designed to provoke disgust and shame.9 This chapter begins by reiterating the problematic use of female metaphors in John’s Apocalypse before examining in detail the primary metaphors of prostitute and mother applied to Woman Babylon. In considering John’s rhetorical use of metaphor, I also explore both the intended and unintended results upon his audience especially as they coincide with monster theory, postcolonialism, feminism, and affect theory. Finally, the chapter ends with an examination of the punishment inflicted upon Woman Babylon as John uses this spectacle as a means of drawing boundaries between her and his community. Similar to John’s treatment of Jezebel, the brutal punishments inflicted upon Woman Babylon may invoke pity rather than horror especially for a modern reader. Again, the line between John and the monstrous is uncomfortably blurred as he is the one responsible for the graphic violence rather than Woman Babylon or the empire she embodies. The representation of women as cities is widespread in the ancient world.10 Scholars are divided on whether John is relying on traditional Jewish covenantal metaphors or Greco-Roman models for his depiction of Woman Babylon.11 As is the case elsewhere in the Apocalypse, John creatively combines Jewish and Greco-Roman traditions as part of his rhetoric to appeal to his audience. The harlot metaphor prominent among the prophets supplies John with a useful and familiar model to demonstrate the dangers of the Roman imperial system.12 However, these metaphors that use feminine images of rape and violence to portray the idolatry and covenant breaking of Israel present interpretive ambiguity for readers. Scholarly opinions differ on the use of such sexualized and violent metaphors of women in biblical stories especially for a modern audience. Some are simply content to dismiss it as “just a metaphor”—emphasizing that it describes the city and not a “real” woman.13 Unfortunately, part of the power of this metaphor is the presence of embedded negative views of women as both subservient and powerless in contrast to men.14 The harlot metaphor is designed to shock its audience, a decidedly male one, which is being shamed through the use of female imagery.15 John appropriates this vivid metaphor to portray Woman Babylon as a horrific prostitute and a monstrous mother. Lynn R. Huber’s framework of this metaphor is helpful, “The conceptual mapping A CITY IS A WOMAN can be extended into a variety of related mappings, including A CITY IS A GODDESS, A CITY IS A WIFE, A CITY IS A MOTHER, etc.”16 Notably, the explicit identification of Woman Babylon as city does not occur until Rev. 17:18 and before that she is strictly seen as woman, prostitute or mother. In contrast, the opposite is true in Rev. 18 where her identification as city is foremost and her female identity is more muted.17 The metaphor

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shifts throughout the two chapters, complicating analysis as it is unclear how human or inanimate is John’s portrait of Woman Babylon. The following section will examine Babylon as prostitute and mother separately, yet some overlap is expected. Before analyzing these metaphors in detail, it is important to note that John also links Babylon with the monstrous and the horrific. He uses both metaphors of Babylon as prostitute and mother to demonstrate her otherness and inherent disturbing nature. Thus, she is not just a prostitute but is cast as a “great whore” denoting something of excess and unrestrained passions.18 Moreover, she is what I have called a “monstrous mother” who inverts the natural order by feeding off others rather than assuming a nurturing role. John deliberately links her to the Dragon and the beasts, considering her a part of their entourage. Their monstrosity is contaminating and Stephen D. Moore argues, “The relentless ‘metonymic slide’ from one figure of hate to the next ‘constructs a relationship of resemblance’ between them.”19 In Rev. 17, Woman Babylon’s partnership with the beast is on display as she is shown riding on it while consuming impurities. In addition to stressing Woman Babylon’s feminine aspects, Hannah M. Strømmen observes that “the Whore is deliberately animalised”20 in her association to the beast. It is not uncommon to find women’s sexual behavior associated with animals in scripture especially when employing the harlot metaphor to provoke disgust (Jer. 2:24; Ezek. 23:20).21 Associating humans with animals is a way to dehumanize them and emphasize their otherness especially when critiquing sexual practices.22 Compared to the Dragon and the beasts, the body of Woman Babylon is never clearly outlined. Michelle Fletcher speaks of a “textual body” noting that John uses a pastiche of texts to construct his presentation of Woman Babylon.23 And yet, as she argues these textual forays and investigations, shed little light on the physicality of Woman Babylon, who remains at best an elusive figure.24 Indeed, John spends more time repeating the hybrid appearance of the scarlet beast on whom the woman is seated rather than attempting a description of Woman Babylon (Rev. 17:3). It is only the objects that adorn the woman, her sumptuous clothes and jewels, which receive attention (Rev. 17:4) along with the name tattooed across her forehead (Rev. 17:5). Fletcher draws compelling parallels to the treatment of Woman Babylon and Mary Shelley’s sparse descriptions of the creature who is never fully described in the novel.25 Popular conceptions of the appearance of Frankenstein’s monster, like his stitched face and neck-bolt, are iconically grafted into the collective memory through a myriad of filmic representations rather than from the original novel.26 Similarly, details of Woman Babylon’s physical appearance are not known primarily through the biblical text but through the afterlives and reinventions

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of artists and interpreters.27 Christina Rossetti’s poem, Babylon the Great, illustrates this well: Foul is she and ill-favoured, set askew; Gaze not upon her till thou dream her fair, Lest she should mesh thee in her wanton hair, Adept in arts grown old yet ever new.28

These opening lines focus immediately on the body of Woman Babylon as foul and ill-favored, representing the immorality of Babylon for Rossetti. Ugliness is equated with evil and corruption.29 Moreover, Rosetti links “her wanton hair” with Woman Babylon’s seductive nature that ensnares men with her sexuality. Revelation 17 has no mention of Woman Babylon’s hair and yet Rossetti adds this interpretive detail to communicate her view of this sexualized image.30 The imaginative picture of Rossetti’s Babylon the Great morphs again in the eyes of modern interpreters who liken Rossetti’s mention of “wanton hair” to Medusa’s monstrous snake locks, a detail not found in the original poem.31 This illustration from Rossetti’s interpretation of Woman Babylon indicates the lack of physical details available in Rev. 17. Similar to Rossetti, some biblical scholars fill in the gaps of the text with descriptors such as “haglike”32 and “old witch,”33 with little textual justification for these judgments. The following section will focus on John’s use of the metaphors of prostitute and mother to connect Woman Babylon with the monstrous as a means of drawing firmer boundaries in his community. A HORRIFIC PROSTITUTE One of John’s primary rhetorical impetuses is to convince his community that Rome is impure and that there is no room for compromise. Yet, for the majority of citizens of Asia Minor, the empire was neither vilified nor rejected, but instead the various cities jockeyed among themselves for favor and honors from Rome.34 In Rev. 17–18, John deliberately lifts the veil away from empire to reveal what he perceives as her hidden and shameful underbelly. Of all the monsters described by John, the woman seated on the beast receives the most censure couched in language of impurity and disgust. The chapter begins with an angel announcing to John that he will show him not just “the great prostitute who is seated on many waters” but most disturbingly her judgment (Rev. 17:1). This is no surprise to John or the reader as Babylon’s destruction is anticipated earlier in Rev. 14:8 with the angelic announcement, “Fallen, fallen is Babylon the great! She has made all nations drink of the wine of the passion of her fornication.”35 The sexual tones are carried into the

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present chapter as the angel reveals that she is guilty of committing fornication with the kings of the earth (Rev. 17:2). It is not until Rev. 17:5 that her name “Babylon the great” is revealed, a cipher for the city of Rome made explicit later with the detail that she sits on seven hills (Rev. 17:9).36 In John’s world, women serve as symbols, whether negative or positive.37 From Jezebel to the Woman clothed with the sun, to Woman Babylon and finally the New Jerusalem, women are sites of ambiguity and significance in the Apocalypse. In Rev. 17, John encounters Woman Babylon in a vision that amazes him: So he carried me away into a wilderness by the spirit; and I saw a woman seated upon a scarlet beast filled with blasphemous names, having seven heads and ten horns. The woman was clothed in purple and scarlet, and glittered with gold and precious stones and pearls, holding a golden cup in her hand filled with vile things and the impurities of her fornication. And upon her forehead was written a name, a mystery: “Babylon the great mother of prostitutes and of the vile things of the earth.” And I saw that the woman was drunk from the blood of the saints and from the blood of the witnesses to Jesus. And I was greatly amazed seeing her. (Rev. 17:3–6)

This vision recalls the earlier one in chapter 12, where another highly symbolic woman is also found in the wilderness. A deliberate contrast is set up by John, who now envisions a prostitute rather than the positive figure of the Woman clothed with the sun.38 In Rev. 17, John introduces this woman as a great pornē, a term designating either a promiscuous woman or a prostitute (Rev. 17:1).39 Some scholars understand Woman Babylon as a higher ranking courtesan who entertains her rich lovers as evidenced by her costly garments and opulent jewels (Rev. 17:4).40 They note that her lovers are not the expected clients of the common prostitute but include kings (Rev. 17:2; 18:3) and rich merchants (Rev. 18:3) who would employ courtesans.41 In contrast, Jennifer A. Glancy and Stephen D. Moore argue that John’s use of pornē in fact is much more reminiscent of the lower-class sex worker than the hetaira, an elite courtesan.42 They propose instead that Woman Babylon fits into neither category as John combines attributes of a common pornē and a higher class hetaira into one symbol.43 Shanell T. Smith calls this the “paradox of the woman Babylon,” who is simultaneously empress and brothel slave.44 Thus, she like many of John’s characters evidences a hybrid identity caught between two worlds. Despite the outward trappings of wealth, John’s Woman Babylon displays prominent markings of a pornē. Unlike a courtesan who was discriminate in her choice of lovers, the common prostitute was seen as a creature of excess. She had multiple partners and thus served as a fitting symbol for John to

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compare sexual immorality with religious idolatry. As Hanna Stenström notes, “Prostitutes were seen as permanently shameless, since they did not respect the lines drawn through sexual exclusiveness. A female prostitute therefore fittingly symbolized the chaotic.”45 In Roman society, prostitutes along with gladiators and actors were grouped under the term infames (meaning a lack of reputation), indicating their shameful status.46 Though John does not describe her with horns, her behavior is considered monstrous as she breaks normative boundaries regarding her sexuality. Unlike model Roman women who were praised for their passive natures, Woman Babylon is portrayed as actively seeking out partners. Prostitutes in particular were seen as shameful and monstrous in contrast to acceptable modes of female sexuality.47 Like Jezebel, who allowed eating food sacrificed to idols, Woman Babylon here also admits foreign substances into her body through sexual intercourse. Contemporary Greco-Roman stereotypes cast women as dangerous beings whose bodies themselves were porous (sexual intercourse, pregnancy, breastfeeding), prone to leakage (menstruation, lactation), and in general soft compared to male counterparts. Women’s bodies whether through sexual intercourse, pregnancy, or breastfeeding break “normative” boundaries as they accommodate the presence of others.48 John takes advantage of these cultural prejudices to present Woman Babylon as a figure “out of control” who is portrayed as “a glutton and sexual predator” whose excesses mark her as dangerous and other.49 If the typical woman was considered irrational, John’s portrait of Woman Babylon amplifies these biases, rendering her completely monstrous. Second, Woman Babylon is branded and tattooed on her forehead with the name, “Babylon the great mother of whores and of earth’s abominations” (Rev. 17:5). Smith argues that the presence of such a tattoo reinforces the understanding of Woman Babylon as not only a pornē but also identifies her as a “brothel slave.”50 Though Woman Babylon is generally held as culpable in her seduction of men, it is she that bears the marks of a slave.51 Those that are “seduced” by Woman Babylon are the elite, powerful and wealthy, none of whom bear any marks (Rev. 17:2). Woman Babylon, unlike the Rider in Rev. 19:16, is tattooed on the forehead rather than the thigh, marking her slave status.52 It was not part of the Greek or Roman practices to tattoo for decorative purposes; instead, they were visible signs of shame and disgrace typically reserved for prisoners of war, slaves, and criminals.53 Tattoos were designed to act as a warning and marked someone as other or reprehensible. Prostitutes and to a greater extent slaves carried the stigma of shame that had the potential to infect others by association. Among those to be avoided in Greco-Roman culture, were included actors, gladiators, and prostitutes, as any contact could potentially jeopardize one’s “dignitas (‘social standing’).”54 Thus, on multiple levels, John attributes shame to the figure of Woman Babylon, though pictured as a queen, is treated with contempt.55

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A MONSTROUS MOTHER Like the rest of John’s metaphoric images for Babylon, the city as woman is also a multivalent symbol, triggering association with both Jewish and Greco-Roman traditions. This condition of John’s rhetoric speaks to his own liminal position as a Jew but also a participant in Roman society, even if it is that of rebel or resister.56 The mother imagery in Rev. 17 has possible roots in the Hebrew Bible, including references to the daughter cities in Ezek. 26:6, 8 and the returning exiles as children to Mother Zion (Isa. 49:18; 54:1–3; 66:8). Huber argues that this maternal image in Isaiah ascribed to Zion is a further conceptual mapping of A CITY IS WOMAN now pictured as A CITY IS A MOTHER.57 Similar maternal constructions of cities are also found in the Greco-Roman world as demonstrated by the popularity of the Goddess Mother in Greece and Asia Minor.58 Justin Schedtler explains that the epithet of Rev. 17:5 is not “Babylon the Great” but rather “Babylon the Great Mother,” which bears resemblance to Roman inscriptions of “The Great Mother.”59 Notably, John’s treatment of Woman Babylon would be a shocking parody for his readers who would expect the Great Mother but be presented instead with a prostitute.60 Moreover, the goddess Roma was predominantly known as a warrior woman representing “Strength” and the reversal in the Apocalypse to a prostitute and slave that is humiliated furthers John’s counter-imperial purposes.61 Beyond links with maternal images from Jewish or Greco-Roman sources, the portrayal of Woman Babylon as a monstrous mother is intended to inspire horror and disgust in the audience. In her hand she holds a cup full of abominations and impurities from which the inhabitants of the earth drink (Rev. 17:2, 4).62 The term bdelygma is used elsewhere for idolatrous practices— most notably in Mark 13:14 which refers to “the abomination of desolations” and in LXX Zech. 9:7 for meat sacrificed to idols.63 John portrays her as the source of impurity that has spread from her and the beasts into the assemblies.64 This contagion is highlighted by John’s use of what Moore calls the “stickiness” of disgusting language used in reference to Woman Babylon.65 She is essentially surrounded by impurities as she sits on an impure beast, offers a cup of abominations and is tattooed as a “mother of prostitutes and of earth’s abominations.” In addition to spreading her impurity, Woman Babylon is also portrayed as drunk, another example of excess and lack of control.66 John relates the following, “And I saw the woman drunk from the blood of the saints and from the blood of the witnesses to Jesus” (Rev. 17:6). The metaphor of city versus a real woman is most ambiguous here as John uses this moment to cultivate the reader’s revulsion as they watch her cannibalize the faithful. Her act of consuming human blood, a blatant sign of her otherness and monstrosity, moves her without question beyond the realm

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of the acceptable to the unimaginable.67 The recurring trope of being eaten by the monster resurfaces but is coupled with the reality of marginalized communities living under empires that threaten to consume their culture and identity.68 In his use of mother imagery, John effectively treats Woman Babylon as an unheimlich figure by taking the familiar image of the mother and upending it. One assumes that mothers will care, nourish, and protect their young. Instead, in John’s hands the maternal image is inverted as Woman Babylon is portrayed as a parasite that feeds off others, drinking their blood indiscriminately. Rather than feeding her children through breastmilk or food, the image here is disturbing, as the mother is living off the blood of others. Adela Yarbro Collins calls her the “Terrible Mother” who “must be appeased by blood and soaked with and nourished by blood in order to be fruitful.”69 The sense of the uncanny is common in responses to the monstrous when the familiar becomes unstable and threatens societal norms. Thus, John reinforces the alien nature of Rome for anyone continuing to participate in the imperial cult through his monstrous depiction of Woman Babylon. It is no accident that Woman Babylon, like Jezebel of Thyatira, is charged with ingesting foreign or impure substances into her body. John links the improper consumption of food with promiscuity to highlight the threat of contamination for the assemblies. RESPONSES TO THE METAPHORS: LIMINALITY AND AFFECT The use of feminine metaphors is at the heart of John’s rhetorical technique and this imagery cannot simply be dismissed as metaphorical. Instead, the very choice of using female metaphors says something about the audience especially if the metaphors target men rather than women (as often argued). Cheryl Exum challenges dismissals of feminist critique by asking: What have feminine images of sexuality to do with male behavior? Why are feminine images used in the first place? They are used because the texts under discussion here rely on a rhetorical strategy of abusing men verbally in the worst possible way—by placing them in the inferior position of the humiliated female—in order to shock them into changing their behavior.70

Metaphors create meaning by unsettling an audience and bringing together two disparate ideas to create a connection.71 John not only cultivates the disgust of his audience but more significantly, he incites a sense of shame.72 This is simultaneously an emotional response and a technique designed to solidify firm boundaries between his community and Woman Babylon. As Sara

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Ahmed explains, objects considered disgusting threaten to contaminate due to their proximity and ability to transfer their offensiveness.73 As monster theorists argue, figures that engender disgust also produce curiosity, fascination, and attraction.74 Ahmed finds the same contradictory reactions observing, “disgust is deeply ambivalent, involving desire for, or an attraction towards, the very objects that are felt to be repellent.”75 The following section will examine these ambivalent attitudes toward Woman Babylon who is portrayed intentionally as a figure of disgust, but perhaps unknowingly (to John) also generates a liminal response that includes fascination and attraction. John’s Intent: Revulsion & Abjection A significant part of John’s rhetoric is affective in nature as he seeks to cultivate the disgust of his audience to erect stronger boundaries in his community against those he considers a threat.76 John accomplishes this by using metaphoric language for Woman Babylon that revolves around food and sex, two prime markers of culture.77 These types of behaviors, and the degree to which one adheres to them, determines one’s membership in a given community. Moreover, failure to maintain such social mores also constitutes what Duff calls “an attack on the social body.”78 In his metaphorical permutations of Woman Babylon as prostitute and mother, she becomes an object of revulsion and horror for John. However, his strategy reaches beyond simply identifying the Woman/City as impure or loathsome, as this becomes the basis for his call to repudiate her (Rev. 18:4–5). As noted above, Woman Babylon is presented as a repulsive figure on multiple levels throughout John’s Apocalypse. She is first portrayed as a prostitute who violates boundaries by indiscriminately allowing multiple lovers to penetrate and pollute her body (as per John’s view). Second, she is a horrific mother who consumes human blood and profits off others especially economically.79 John’s use of monstrous rhetoric for Woman Babylon is designed to prompt a visceral rejection of all that she represents, allowing zero room for accommodation or compromise among his community. His rhetoric of disgust is powerful as he reinscribes current feelings regarding prostitutes in Greco-Roman society alongside former prophetic uses of the harlot metaphor. Ahmed argues that disgust involves a level of performativity as “it reiterates what has already been said” to generate future experiences of an object as disgusting.80 This notion fits well with John’s creative reuse of older traditions and subsequent generation of newer applications in his current context. Julia Kristeva’s description of abjection fits well with John’s concern for boundaries. She argues, “It is thus not a lack of cleanliness or health that causes abjection but what disturbs identity, system, order. What does not respect borders, positions, rules. The in-between, the ambiguous, the

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composite.”81 Abjection involves more than the feeling of revulsion that protects someone from ingesting something foul, but also necessarily entails the physical and almost involuntary reflexes like gagging or vomiting.82 These actions both protect someone from consuming a harmful substance and also help to expel such an item if ingested. Abjection is also the process of othering another individual especially where a degree of sameness is felt. As J. Z. Smith has observed, humans are most threatened by communities that share a common border, what he labels “the proximate other.”83 As a colonial subject, John shares common features with Woman Babylon, whether or not he is aware of it. Moreover, his target community is likely already “infected” by empire as they have previously ingested food sacrificed to idols and participated in the imperial cult.84 As Kristeva proposes, part of abjection is not simply expelling a foreign object but “I expel myself, I spit myself out, I abject myself within the same motion through which ‘I’ claim to establish myself.”85 John’s creation of Woman Babylon as the monstrous feminine is at its core about identity formation. Similar processes are part of the complicated relationship between the colonized and the colonizer. Kristeva speaks of the primal relationship between child and mother that is disrupted as the child abjects the maternal in an effort to break free.86 Likewise, John’s goal is to disrupt the symbiotic relationship between the empire and the assemblies, revealing the monstrosity of the mother city that risks infecting those who do not repudiate all ties. John’s Unintended Result: Fascination & Attraction The Apocalypse is a highly sensory book, both visually and auditorily stimulating, designed to “shape its audience’s thought and action.”87 The impact of Revelation’s metaphors is substantial as Woman Babylon has become a cipher not only for Rome but any power that is viewed as corrupt and oppressive.88 Readers, though horrified at John’s graphic images, remain fascinated by the rich and evocative symbols despite their unease. This liminal response is embedded within the text itself, found in the reaction of the seer upon viewing Woman Babylon. John reports his own amazement (Rev. 17:6) but is rebuked by the angelic interpreter who asks, “Why are you so amazed?” The term thaumazein is found elsewhere in Revelation for those that see the signs of the beasts (Rev. 13:3). Scholars are divided on the nature of John’s reaction, whether it is “fearful, perplexed and admiring,”89 or “puzzled,”90 or “seduced.”91 John’s mixed reaction is reminiscent of the fascination and distaste that often accompany one’s experience of horrific sights. Noel Carroll calls this “the paradox of horror” that attempts to explain how one derives pleasure from things that normally disgust and repel.92

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Abjection itself is a liminal response involving both fascination and revulsion. Kristeva’s book Powers of Horror opens with this illustrative quotation: There looms, within abjection, one of those violent, dark revolts of being, directed against a threat that seems to emanate from an exorbitant outside or inside, ejected beyond the scope of the possible, the tolerable, the thinkable. It beseeches, worries, and fascinates desire, which, nevertheless, does not let itself be seduced. Apprehensive, desire turns aside; sickened, it rejects.93

John’s intent is to cause revulsion and disgust, to induce a visceral reaction leading his community to abject and disengage from anything to do with Rome. However, the act of separation is complicated as one can be drawn to the grotesque or the amazing. Elsewhere in Revelation, this sense of amazement can lead to worship as evidenced by the people who encounter the beast that was slain and yet lived (Rev. 13:3; 17:8). Moreover, John himself shows this connection after seeing and hearing all the visions when he falls down to worship the angel (Rev. 22:8–9). Tina Pippin goes a step further to describe the vision of Rev. 17 as erotic and likens Woman Babylon to “a siren calling to men.”94 John’s attraction to the woman is difficult to interpret in light of his rhetorical strategies throughout the Apocalypse. Does he show his own attraction as a means of convincing his audience of their own vulnerabilities? This episode demonstrates that the line between disgust and attraction is nebulous, and John walks a fine line as he draws his readers to Woman Babylon only to provoke their disgust.95 It is most apparent in John’s description of the graphic and disturbing punishment imposed upon Woman Babylon especially when her portrayal as woman or city is so ambiguous. PUNISHING THE HARLOT When Woman Babylon is read exclusively as a city, the punishments against her are depersonalized as they simply describe its physical dismantling.96 However, as argued earlier, the metaphor of Babylon as a city is a site of slippage and uncertainty as the image of the female slave resurfaces repeatedly. The boundary between these metaphorical associations is not firmly drawn by John contributing to the power of the metaphor. Similar to the Dragon and beasts, the punishment of the monstrous body of Woman Babylon is viewed as a spectacle and one might argue that it is cathartic in nature. It is also part of John’s strategy to reinstate his boundaries to bind his community together through mutual abjection of Woman Babylon. Nowhere is this spectacle more prominent than John’s presentation of Woman Babylon as the great queen humiliated and debased:

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And he said to me, “The waters which you saw where the prostitute sits these are peoples and multitudes and nations and languages. And the ten horns that you saw and the beast, these will hate the prostitute, and they will make her desolate and naked, and they will devour her flesh and burn her up with fire. For God has given into their hearts to do his purpose and to be of one mind and to give their kingdom to the beast, until the words of God are completed. And the one woman which you saw is the great city that has authority over the kings of the earth.” (Rev. 17:15–18)

This performative spectacle begins in the wilderness where Woman Babylon is relegated before the physical acts of violence are inflicted on her body. Thus, I treat the punishment of Woman Babylon in two sections: (1) her separation or ruin, and (2) her annihilation. It is common to find more thorough treatments of the physical punishment and destruction of Woman Babylon, but her banishment to the wilderness is a pivotal part of John’s rhetoric that requires more consideration. Separation It is surprising to find Woman Babylon in the wilderness at the beginning of chapter 17 rather than situated in a more central and prominent locale. Her isolation underscores John’s rhetoric of disgust and abjection as she is debased further by her removal to the edges of the world. Thus, the first punishment of Woman Babylon entails her new status as outcast in the wilderness, a complete inversion of Rome’s actual position. At the time of John’s writing, Rome was the center of the known world, the nucleus around which colonized cities organized themselves.97 The unexpected and destabilizing picture of Rome as a desolate wilderness is a powerful counter-imperial discourse to the norms of John’s audience. Central to the issue of imperialism is the notion of a “dominating metropolitan center ruling a distant territory.”98 However, John intentionally upends the typical center and periphery paradigm by casting Rome into the wilderness, a place of symbolic significance in Jewish and Greco-Roman cultures. Anathea Portier-Young identifies this as an important strategy of imperial resistance in which normative binaries present under empire are inverted.99 This reversal is highlighted even further as the wilderness acts as a place of protection for the Woman clothed with sun in Rev. 12 while it becomes the burial ground for Woman Babylon. Finally, Woman Babylon is not only banished to the wilderness, but she becomes one herself (Rev. 18:2). Huber notes the prevalence of the metaphorical mapping A LAND IS A WOMAN that characterizes both ancient and modern discourses about space.100 Here, in Rev. 18 Woman Babylon is no longer a splendid city but a ruin and a wasteland. The angel announces,

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“Fallen, fallen is Babylon the great! It/she has become a dwelling-place of demons, a prison of every unclean spirit, a prison of every unclean bird, a prison of every unclean and hated beast” (Rev. 18:2). I have used Huber’s translation “it/she” regarding the ambiguity of the pronoun for Woman Babylon that blurs the animate and inanimate presentation of this symbol.101 Additionally, the metaphorical association of women with cities or nations is closely related to both spaces as containers.102 Babylon now houses demons, spirits, birds, and beasts—a vivid reminder of how far the city/woman has fallen.103 The safety of the womb or the walled city is inverted in the Apocalypse, as Babylon is described as a prison containing these foul and impure beings. The translation of phylakē as prison rather than haunt “connotes boundaries and reflects the conventional image of the city as a container.”104 The repetition of the word unclean reinforces the impurity of the city/woman who no longer attracts but repels. Unlike the widow/princess of Lam. 1 that draws one’s pity, John reinforces the monstrous nature of Woman Babylon by associating her with unclean and hostile creatures. She becomes contaminated through association and proximity with the demons, spirits, birds, and beasts that make their home in her. John’s denunciation of empire as personified by Woman Babylon reaches its climax in the angelic call, “Come out of her my people so that you do not share in her sins, and so that you do not receive her plagues, because her sins are piled up to heaven and God has remembered her wrongdoings” (Rev. 18:4b–5). John is drawing firm boundaries and exhorting the community to abject and denounce any affiliation with empire. Ahmed argues that disgust “operates as a contact zone” requiring a physical feeling of contamination.105 Thus, the angelic command “to come out of her” implies a rejection and a reestablishment of boundaries that have been breached. According to Ahmed, “borders need to be threatened in order to be maintained” and Woman Babylon serves as a symbol of contamination and impurity.106 John’s rhetoric has aligned Woman Babylon with the beast and other impure animals that serves to dehumanize and categorize her as other and monstrous. His call for the assemblies to distance themselves from her is associated with a removal from Babylon, a site of contagion, implying they have already been compromised.107 Finally, the picture of a ruined empire is indicative of John’s concerns regarding his community’s colonial relationship with Rome.108 John’s inversion of the powerful empire into an exiled and humiliated woman reinforces his counter-imperial discourse. Annihilation There is a performative aspect of John’s rhetoric that invites the audience to participate in viewing Babylon’s destruction.109 In fact, the very language

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employed by John calls on the audience to gaze with him upon his visions.110 However, there is a modern tendency to sanitize the text, thereby ignoring the flesh of the woman, as scholars emphasize her symbolic value as a city.111 John does not shy away from using graphic language and images, merging metaphors of BABYLON AS WOMAN and BABYLON AS CITY.112 She is both entities, a true hybrid conception that challenges binary thinking about metaphor. The result of this ambiguous language further dehumanizes Woman Babylon and aligns her even more with the monsters that turn against her. Monsters by their very nature are difficult to kill. Accordingly, the punishment inflicted upon Woman Babylon is extensive as her entire body is consumed. Monster slayers are familiar with the resurgence of the monster that refuses to die, and John is persistent in noting the completeness of Woman Babylon’s annihilation.113 The angel describes her destruction in the following vision, “And the ten horns that you saw and the beast, these will hate the prostitute, and they will make her desolate and naked, and they will devour her flesh and burn her up with fire” (Rev. 17:16–18). The actions taken against her have precedent for cities, but as Smith maintains, “Although she represents a city, we cannot ignore the fact that John encases this city in feminine flesh.”114 The following section will examine the annihilation of Woman Babylon as a sublime object that is simultaneously portrayed as both woman and city. The first part of Woman Babylon’s punishment is her repudiation by the ten horns and the beast (Rev. 17:16) who are said “to hate the whore.” Commentators pay little attention to this detail beyond drawing links with Ezek. 23:29 in which Israel’s lovers are said to “deal with her in hatred.”115 Strong links are found between the treatment of Woman Babylon in Rev. 17 and the humiliation and punishment of the harlot(s) in Ezek. 16 and 23. Though a small part of the vision, the identification of hatred that precedes the violence against the metaphorical Woman Babylon provides valuable insight into John and his community. According to Ahmed, hatred of another plays an important role in community formation by reinforcing the boundary between us and them especially where one fears the risk of contamination or threat.116 Moreover, as Ahmed states, “Hate is not simply a means by which the identity of the subject and community is established (through alignment); hate also works to unmake the world of the other through pain.”117 Thus, John’s public spectacle of Woman Babylon begins with hatred, calling on his community to participate in dismantling the empire he views as incompatible with faith. Though modern interpreters may view Woman Babylon with pity, John here intentionally debases her, encouraging his community to rejoice at her downfall (Rev. 18:20).118 The gaze of the audience is drawn to the woman stripped naked and exposed to the view of multiple spectators. Strømmen contends that this

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further debases her, aligning her with the beast and animals who also wear no clothes.119 All her jewels and clothing that confirm her human identity are removed, leaving her vulnerable and without protection. Scholars are correct to note the correlation with the despoiling and destruction of ancient cities.120 The feminization of conquered peoples is a common trope in ancient iconography and discourses.121 A particularly evocative example from the Sebasteion at Aphrodisias personifies defeated people groups as women. Their humiliation is portrayed by their bared breasts, unkempt hair, and even their subject body positions.122 Yet, the punishment against Woman Babylon occurs before her explicit identification as a city in Rev. 17:18, leaving room for ambiguity.123 Though there are earlier clues that this woman represents Rome, the image of a woman even as an archetype is vividly constructed by John. The metaphor is so powerful because the abstract idea of empire is personified and embodied before them as a humiliated and shamed woman. Her nakedness is a tangible symbol of her helplessness, simultaneously drawing the viewer’s gaze while reminding them to avoid her at any cost.124 The metaphor takes an even more disturbing turn as the angel reveals that “they will devour her flesh” (Rev. 17:18). David E. Aune states “this is clearly a metaphor” while Craig R. Koester notes the ambiguous nature of John’s language that applies to both cities and real women.125 While commentators may choose to suppress the graphic implications of John’s images, others express unease over phrases like “they will devour her flesh.”126 Food has served as a highly important marker of identity throughout the Apocalypse that demarcates those on the inside and those excluded (Rev. 2–3). It is not insignificant that food consumption continues as an important theme in the punishment of God (and John’s) opponents. In this instance, Woman Babylon is further dehumanized as she becomes food, meat for other beasts to consume.127 This is the first in a series of feasts that includes the marriage supper of the Lamb (Rev. 19:9) and the great supper of God (Rev. 19:17–18). This second gruesome feast is announced by an angel, “Come, assemble for the great supper of God, so that you may eat the flesh of kings, the flesh of captains, the flesh of the mighty ones, the flesh of horses and their riders, and the flesh of all, both free and slave, small and great.” The extravagant repetition of the word sarx “flesh” underscores the repugnance of this feast. The threat of being eaten by a monster continues in the Apocalypse, as those who have consumed Woman Babylon now become food for the birds. The text is stark in its imagery, repeatedly anticipating that these birds will strip them of their flesh until they are filled (Rev. 19:21).128 James L. Resseguie counts these birds among the “demonic animals” noting that these “unclean birds of prey” feast on human carcasses in a parody of the marriage supper of the Lamb.129 Regardless of allusions to a messianic feast, Resseguie fails to account for

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the close and disturbing relationship between the Rider of the white horse who provides this grotesque feast and the birds that consume it (Rev. 19:21). The final part of Woman Babylon’s punishment is that she will “be burned with fire” (Rev. 17:16). Presumably, after the ten horns and the beast consume her flesh, only her bones remain. Her punishment recalls the earlier fate of another Jezebel, the Queen of Israel, whose body was also consumed by animals with only her skull, feet, and hands surviving (2 Kgs. 9:30–37). There is no more effective way to make someone other and literally erase their existence than to reduce them to food. Jehu echoes this sentiment, “the corpse of Jezebel shall be like dung on the field in the territory of Jezreel, so that no one can say, ‘This is Jezebel’” (2 Kgs. 9:37). The ancient Queen’s body is erased becoming like Tiamat’s split corpse—a part of the earth—and Woman Babylon receives similar treatment as only ashes remain. Though speaking of medieval monsters, Dana Oswald observes that despite human’s fascination with monstrous bodies, they still seek to exert control both “textually and visually” by destroying the monster.130 Apart from John’s destruction of Woman Babylon, the erasure of her body continues when scholars insist that she is only a metaphor, denying the woman behind the imagery.131 There is no doubt that John is using language of warfare against cities but his rhetoric also targets opponents like Jezebel of Thyatira. To diminish Woman Babylon solely to a city functionally reduces the metaphor’s power to shock, especially as John intentionally evokes the experiences of real women like Queen Jezebel. When Woman Babylon’s experience is read alongside Queen Jezebel’s death and annihilation, the parallels are uncannily similar, making it almost impossible to divorce the two narratives.132 Moreover, the added layer of John’s earlier condemnation of Jezebel of Thyatira calls into question how “metaphoric” were his demands for her punishment. A LIMINAL RESPONSE As demonstrated in this chapter, scholars wrestle with the identity of Woman Babylon and debate whether she represents a city or a woman. The difficulty of untangling these metaphors from the body of Babylon is indicative of their deep roots. She is an ambivalent symbol, both woman and city, designed to evoke horror and disgust. Like other monstrous creatures, she is a hybrid entity, portrayed as an animate and inanimate object concurrently. Woman Babylon, in Rev. 17, is a projection of John’s fears, anxieties, and desires encapsulated in the flesh that he symbolically destroys. He strips her of humanity linking her with the monstrous both by her conduct and her associations with the beast. Traditionally, scholars have viewed the destruction of Woman Babylon by the beast as an example of the “self-destroying power

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of evil.”133 She is the epitome of empire, sumptuously dressed and presiding over the nations. Her destruction is seen as justified as she is the colonizer who has exploited the nations and threatened the faithful.134 John constructs his narrative as a visual spectacle, inviting the reader/hearer to experience the humiliation of this empress-city to convince them to turn their loyalty to God.135 However, John’s first-century rhetoric designed to ensure the disgust and revulsion of his audience, fails some modern interpreters who remain deeply disturbed by the graphic violence of the Apocalypse that targets women. Especially problematic is the shifting sense of who is the monster of the Apocalypse, as interpreters are increasingly critical of God’s role in the events of judgment that saturate the book. Pippin expresses this very sentiment in her statement, “Who is responsible for this final holocaust? God/Son of Man/Lamb does more evil (for good?) than any monster in the text.”136 A key thesis of this book is that the monster cannot be automatically equated with either evil or chaos, though they are potentially dangerous entities. However, too often the actions of divine beings like God and the Lamb are excused even when they demonstrate their similarly dangerous and threatening natures. An unintended result of John’s intense and violent images is that it can invoke pity rather than disgust for Woman Babylon. Many feminist postcolonial scholars note their complicated and ambivalent responses to her plight. Smith, writing from a postcolonial womanist perspective, shares her mixed response to the question of whether Woman Babylon represents a woman or a city: As an African American woman who is both a victim and participant in empire, I give . . . both questions a resounding yes. The fact that I find resonance with both of these aspects of woman Babylon makes it difficult to choose between both readings, and thus, I embrace both. The figure of Babylon is a city because she reminds me of the imperial structures by which I and my ancestors have been victimized, and the very same structures from which I benefit. (I am torn). The figure of Babylon is also a woman because I resonate with the violence that she experienced as a female. What she endures on the pages of John’s text reminds me of what my female ancestors endured at the whim of their slavemasters. (I am incensed.) In short, her ambivalent subject position is a reflection of my own and incites within me all sorts of emotions.137

Pippin also records a conflicted response to Woman Babylon, viewing her as evil when read from a Marxist perspective but as victim with regard to gender ideology.138 Woman Babylon is a hybrid creature who combines traits of the colonizer and the colonized into one symbol, and as such she defies traditionally established categories.139 Readers are required to choose to

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lament with the kings and merchants of Rev. 18 or to stand in judgment with John.140 Christopher A. Frilingos emphasizes that the actions of the kings and merchants are part of the “spectacle of Babylon’s demise,” an indication of their continued allegiance and guilty association as they mourn Babylon.141 He is correct in arguing that John does not intend the readers or hearers to grieve along with the kings and merchants.142 However, it is difficult to disassociate oneself from the horrific spectacle of Woman Babylon’s punishment and annihilation. Finally, Surekha Nelavala presents another perspective, “while condemning John’s extremely violent attitude against the whore, I propose the need to re-read John’s anguish as a colonized person, a person representing the community who were oppressed, and victims of torture and violence.”143 Like other scholars, she perceives the “double-sided” nature of Woman Babylon who represents the colonizer and the colonized.144 Additionally, she asks what is the other side of the story? Why does John wish so violently for her destruction? Nelavala observes that John is criticized for his victimization of Woman Babylon, for re-inscribing imperial practices upon her.145 And yet, conversely, John remains a colonial subject chafing under the rule of a foreign power, one he sees aligned with the demonic realm. There is a cathartic element to John’s Apocalypse that allows for the release of emotions including fear and anger; however, it comes with a price.146 Postcolonial analysis invites the reader to view the many perspectives of John’s Apocalypse and to acknowledge that the colonized experience is not homogenous. The gendered language used by John is also reflective of real women’s experiences under colonial rule.147 Even while attempting to understand John’s colonial trauma, it too is only one side of the story, that of the male victim. CONCLUSION The ambivalence one experiences regarding the fate of Woman Babylon is reminiscent of reading Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. One may feel sympathy for the creature while concurrently condemning his acts of murder. It leads to the unsettling question, “Who is the monster in Frankenstein?” Is it the scientist Victor Frankenstein who abandons his creation, or the creature whose actions are abhorrent? The monstrous becomes a site of uncertainty, confusing neat boundaries and borders assumed by society. In a similar way, the portrayal of Babylon’s demise elicits a complicated and liminal response. It is not always clear whose side to assume as a reader of John’s Apocalypse. This chapter began with a quote from Christina Rossetti, “Gaze not upon her, lest thou be as she,” an apt summary of John’s exclusivist perspective. Rossetti’s words are even more strident than John’s as he never warns against looking

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at Woman Babylon. Moreover, the poet embellishes upon the visions of Revelation by adding the eloquent warning, “lest thou be as she.” Like John, Rossetti acknowledges the lure of Babylon, a spectacle that threatens to draw people to her rather than God and the Lamb. However, John’s graphic staging of Woman Babylon’s death may entice the reader closer in sympathy to her than he likely intended. Woman Babylon is a shifting symbol that refuses to adhere to categories, merging multiple identities into one complicated and ambiguous metaphor. John presents her as monstrous, intending to drive people away from her, and yet this mimicry of colonial power presents John and by extension God as culpable horror makers. Like other monstrous figures, John destabilizes the normal boundaries governing life for the assemblies by inverting their vision of Rome.

NOTES 1. Christina Georgina Rossetti, The Face of the Deep: A Devotional Commentary on the Apocalypse (London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1892), 406. 2. I have chosen to call the metaphoric representation of Rome “Woman Babylon” rather than the more popular “Whore of Babylon,” partly to avoid reading prevalent stereotypes into the text. 3. Caroline Vander Stichele notes that the text views her as morally corrupt and deserving of the horrific fate awaiting her (Caroline Vander Stichele, “Re-Membering the Whore: The Fate of Babylon According to Revelation 17.16,” in A Feminist Companion to the Apocalypse of John, ed. Amy-Jill Levine [London: T&T Clark, 2009], 119). In chapter 18, she is charged with fornication (v. 9), living extravagantly at the cost of human lives (vv. 12–13), sorcery (v. 23), and the blood of the prophets and the saints (v. 24). 4. Leonard L. Thompson, The Book of Revelation: Apocalypse and Empire (New York: Oxford University Press, 1990), 79–81; Paul B. Duff, Who Rides the Beast?: Prophetic Rivalry and the Rhetoric of Crisis in the Churches of the Apocalypse (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 83–96. 5. Vander Stichele addresses this in her statement, “Gender, then, is also more than just a matter of convention; it plays a role in the message to be delivered” (Vander Stichele, “Re-Membering the Whore,” 115). See also Lynn R. Huber, Like a Bride Adorned: Reading Metaphor in John’s Apocalypse, Emory Studies in Early Christianity (New York: T&T Clark, 2007), 89–112; Shanell T. Smith, The Woman Babylon and the Marks of Empire: Reading Revelation with a Postcolonial Womanist Hermeneutics of Ambiveilence (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2014). 6. Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza, The Book of Revelation: Justice and Judgment (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1998), 217. 7. Susan Garrett, “Revelation,” in The Women’s Bible Commentary, ed. Carol A. Newsom and Sharon H. Ringe (Louisville: Westminster/John Knox Press, 1992), 377; Tina Pippin, Death and Desire: The Rhetoric of Gender in the Apocalypse of

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John, 1st ed, Literary Currents in Biblical Interpretation (Louisville: Westminster/ John Knox Press, 1992), 47. 8. Catherine Keller, Apocalypse Now and Then: A Feminist Guide to the End of the World (Boston: Beacon Press, 1996), 77. 9. Particular attention will be paid to the ways in which John’s language and images invoke emotion especially those of hatred, disgust, and shame between members of his community and his monstrous visions. For an overview of affect theory, see Jennifer L. Koosed and Stephen D. Moore, “Introduction: From Affect to Exegesis,” Biblical Interpretation 22, no. 4–5 (2014): 381–87. 10. Mark E. Biddle, “The Figure of Lady Jerusalem: Identification, Deification and Personification of Cities in the Ancient Near East,” in The Biblical Canon in Comparative Perspectives: Scripture in Context IV, ed. K. Lawson Younger Jr., William W. Hallo, and Bernard F. Batto (Lewiston: Edwin Mellon, 1991), 173–94; Huber, Like a Bride Adorned, 91–95. 11. Jean-Pierre Ruiz argues that John’s visions were composed primarily using traditions from the Hebrew prophets such as Ezekiel rather than Greco-Roman (JeanPierre Ruiz, Ezekiel in the Apocalypse: The Transformation of Prophetic Language in Revelation 16:17–19:10 [Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang, 1989], 323). 12. The angel identifies the city as Babylon, an evocative symbol for biblical readers of conquest, exile and empire. However, as Huber argues, the target of the metaphor is not Babylon rather “the text itself and its historical context suggest BABYLON metaphorically represents Rome” (Lynn R. Huber, Thinking and Seeing with Women in Revelation, Library of New Testament Studies 475 [London: Bloomsbury T&T Clark, 2013], 62). 13. Robert P. Carroll responds to feminist criticism of the marital/harlot metaphor by downplaying the impact of the metaphor and emphasizing its symbolic nature (Robert P. Carroll, “Desire under the Terebinths: On Pornographic Representations in the Prophets—A Response,” in Feminist Companion to the Latter Prophets, ed. A. Brenner, Feminist Companion to the Bible 8 [Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1995], 278–79). Likewise, Barbara Rossing treats the punishments inflicted on Woman Babylon not as attacks upon a woman’s body but rather the destruction of a city (Barbara R. Rossing, The Choice Between Two Cities: Whore, Bride, and Empire in the Apocalypse, Harvard Theological Studies 48 [Harrisburg: Trinity Press International, 1999], 88). 14. J. Cheryl Exum, Plotted, Shot, and Painted: Cultural Representations of Biblical Women, Journal for the Study of the Old Testament Supplement Series 215 (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1996), 120–21. 15. Or in the words of Exum, “The way to insult a man is to call him a woman. You insult him more if you call him a filthy whore who is going to have her genitals exposed, which is what these prophetic accusations do” (Exum, 120). 16. Huber, Like a Bride Adorned, 92–93. 17. Vander Stichele, “Re-Membering the Whore,” 107–8. 18. I have used the term prostitute here rather than the modern nomenclature of “sex worker” as many in the ancient world (and even today) who participated in such work did not do so voluntarily. See Lynn R. Huber, “Gazing at the Whore: Reading

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Revelation Queerly,” in Bible Trouble: Queer Reading at the Boundaries of Biblical Scholarship, ed. Teresa J. Hornsby and Ken Stone (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2011), 310n16. 19. Stephen D. Moore, “Retching on Rome: Vomitous Loathing and Visceral Disgust in Affect Theory and the Apocalypse of John,” Biblical Interpretation 22, no. 4–5 (2014): 518. 20. Hannah M. Strømmen, “The Politics of the Beast: Rewiring Revelation 17,” Relegere 7, no. 1–2 (2018): 152. 21. Jean K. Kim, “‘Uncovering Her Wickedness’: An Inter(Con)Textual Reading of Revelation 17 from a Postcolonial Feminist Perspective,” Journal for the Study of the New Testament 21, no. 73 (July 1999): 72. 22. Women were particularly vulnerable to comparisons with animals as they were considered “imperfect” or “unformed” males as per Aristotle. Elaine L. Graham notes that women-animal hybrids (Greco-Roman) were characterized by “sexual voracity and danger” (Elaine L. Graham, Representations of the Post/ Human: Monsters, Aliens, and Others in Popular Culture [New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 2002], 47). 23. Michelle Fletcher, “Flesh for Franken-Whore: Reading Babylon’s Body in Revelation 17,” in The Body in Biblical, Christian and Jewish Texts, ed. Joan E. Taylor, Library of Second Temple Studies 85 (London: Bloomsbury Publishing, 2014), 149. 24. Fletcher, “Flesh for Franken-Whore,” 150. 25. Fletcher, “Flesh for Franken-Whore,” 146. 26. Fletcher, “Flesh for Franken-Whore,” 145–46. 27. For an overview of the history of reception for Woman Babylon in art, see Natasha O’Hear and Anthony O’Hear, Picturing the Apocalypse: The Book of Revelation in the Arts over Two Millennia (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015), 155–75. 28. Rossetti, The Face of the Deep, 406. 29. Rossetti’s poem, The World, also sets up a similar dichotomy between the ugly and monstrous as indicative of the world’s corrupting influence. 30. Hair in Victorian literature was viewed as inherently powerful, erotic and seductive (Elisabeth G. Gitter, “The Power of Women’s Hair in the Victorian Imagination,” Publications of the Modern Language Association of America 99, no. 5 [1984]: 952). 31. Stephanie L. Johnson, “‘Home One and All’: Redeeming the Whore of Babylon in Christina Rossetti’s Religious Poetry,” Victorian Poetry 49, no. 1 (2011): 115. It is quite possible that interpreters merge the portrayal of hair in Rossetti’s two poems, The World and Babylon the Great. In The World, the locks are described as “subtle serpents gliding in her hair” whereas the hair of the woman in Babylon the Great lacks this serpentine detail. 32. Joseph L. Mangina, Revelation, Brazos Theological Commentary on the Bible (Baker Books, 2010), 209. 33. G. B. Caird, A Commentary on the Revelation of St. John the Divine, Black’s New Testament Commentaries (London: Black, 1966), 214.

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34. Koester provides a helpful overview of the various ways that the cities of Asia Minor sought to honor Rome through the imperial cult, principally the construction of temples and statues (Craig R. Koester, Revelation: A New Translation with Introduction and Commentary, Anchor Yale Bible 38A [New Haven: Yale University Press, 2014], 93–95). 35. The destruction of Babylon is also disclosed in Rev. 16:19 when an earthquake initiated by the seventh angel results in the following scene “the great city was split into three parts and the cities of the nations fell. God remembered great Babylon and gave her the wine-cup of the fury of his wrath.” 36. Koester, Revelation, 675. 37. Adela Yarbro Collins, “Feminine Symbolism in the Book of Revelation,” Biblical Interpretation 1, no. 1 (February 1993): 20–33. 38. Duff argues that the similarities between these two figures is only superficial as John’s aim is to demonstrate their differences (Duff, Who Rides the Beast?, 85–87). The following similarities are present regarding the figures of the Woman clothed with the sun and Woman Babylon: (1) identified as mothers (Rev. 12:2; 17:5); (2) located in the wilderness (Rev. 12:6; 17:6) and (3) antagonism of the beast or Dragon (Rev. 12:5–6, 13, 15; 17:16). For a fuller list of the parallels, see Duff, 86. 39. Koester, Revelation, 671. 40. David E. Aune, Revelation 17-22, Word Biblical Commentary 52C (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 1998), 935; Richard Bauckham, Climax of Prophecy: Studies on the Book of Revelation (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1998), 347. 41. Aune, Revelation 17-22, 935. 42. Jennifer A. Glancy and Stephen D. Moore, “How Typical a Roman Prostitute Is Revelation’s ‘Great Whore’?,” Journal of Biblical Literature 130, no. 3 (2011): 553–55. 43. Glancy and Moore, How Typical a Roman Prostitute Is Revelation’s ‘Great Whore’?,” 560. 44. Smith, The Woman Babylon and the Marks of Empire, 139. 45. Hanna Stenström, “‘They Have Not Defiled Themselves with Women’: Christian Identity According to the Book of Revelation,” in A Feminist Companion to the Apocalypse of John, ed. Amy-Jill Levine (London: T&T Clark, 2009), 36. 46. Catharine Edwards, “Unspeakable Professions: Public Performance and Prostitution in Ancient Rome,” in Roman Sexualities, ed. Judith P. Hallett and Marilyn B. Skinner (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1997), 66. 47. Holt N. Parker, “The Teratogenic Grid,” in Roman Sexualities, ed. Judith P. Hallett and Marilyn B. Skinner (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1997), 58–59. 48. Duff, Who Rides the Beast?, 107. 49. Duff, Who Rides the Beast?, 111. 50. Smith, The Woman Babylon and the Marks of Empire, 127. 51. James L. Resseguie, Revelation Unsealed: A Narrative Critical Approach to John’s Apocalypse, Biblical Interpretation Series 32 (Leiden: Brill, 1998), 137–38; Rossing, The Choice Between Two Cities, 81. 52. Smith, The Woman Babylon and the Marks of Empire, 135–37.

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53. C. P. Jones, “Stigma: Tattooing and Branding in Graeco-Roman Antiquity,” The Journal of Roman Studies 77 (1987): 155. Jones specifically refers to the tattoo of Woman Babylon arguing “the author perhaps imagines the Woman not only as a whore, but a whore of the most degraded kind, a tattooed slave” (Jones, “Stigma,” 151). 54. Edwards, “Unspeakable Professions: Public Performance and Prostitution in Ancient Rome,” 67. 55. It is likely that John is inverting the typical figure of the goddess Roma, a personification of the city of Rome found throughout the cities of Asia Minor (Collins, “Feminine Symbolism in the Book of Revelation,” 126). 56. Homi Bhabha notes that “mimicry represents an ironic compromise” (Homi K. Bhabha, The Location of Culture [London: Routledge, 2004], 122). He is mainly speaking about colonial powers that desire to replicate themselves onto the colonial subjects but only enough to retain their authority and power (Bhabha, The Location of Culture, 122). However, the same is process is indicative of colonial resistance that mimics colonial powers to mock and challenge authority. As John demonstrates, his appropriation of Roman symbols to mock imperial pretention highlights the centrality of empire in his own constructions of the world. 57. Huber, Like a Bride Adorned, 109. 58. For a detailed study of the Goddess Roma, see Ronald Mellor, “The Goddess Roma,” Aufstieg und Niedergang der römischen Welt II, no. 17/2 (1981): 950–1030. 59. Justin Jeffcoat Schedtler, “Mother of Gods, Mother of Harlots: The Image of the Mother Goddess Behind the Description of the ‘Whore of Babylon’ in Revelation 17,” Novum Testamentum 59, no. 1 (2017): 62. 60. Collins, “Feminine Symbolism in the Book of Revelation,” 126. 61. Stephen D. Moore, Untold Tales from the Book of Revelation: Sex and Gender, Empire and Ecology, Resources for Biblical Study 79 (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2014), 130–31. 62. In Rev. 14:8, John previously reported that “the nations drink of the wine of the wrath of her fornication.” For the background of the cup imagery, see Rossing, The Choice Between Two Cities, 62–66. 63. Aune, Revelation 17-22, 936. 64. Moore, “Retching on Rome,” 515. 65. Moore, “Retching on Rome,” 515–16. 66. Roman women during the time of Domitian were expected to display attributes of modesty, self-control, and chastity (Huber, Like a Bride Adorned, 120–21). 67. Not least as a root of the community’s horror is the Jewish taboo against the consumption of blood (Lev. 7:26–27; 17:10–16; 1 En. 7:5; 98:11). 68. Already in Rev. 12 John has emphasized the rapaciousness of the Dragon who sought to consume first the child (Rev. 12:4) and then his mother (Rev. 12:13–17). 69. Collins, “Feminine Symbolism in the Book of Revelation,” 128. 70. Exum, Plotted, Shot, and Painted, 121. 71. Paul Ricoeur, The Rule of Metaphor: The Creation of Meaning in Language (London: Routledge, 2004), 198–99.

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72. Virginia Burrus, Saving Shame: Martyrs, Saints, and Other Abject Subjects, Divinations: Rereading Late Ancient Religion (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2008), 15–17. 73. Sara Ahmed, Cultural Politics of Emotion (New York: Routledge, 2004), 84–89. I was first introduced to the work of Ahmed through Stephen D. Moore who applies her theories of disgust to John’s rhetoric against “figures of hate” in the Apocalypse (Moore, “Retching on Rome”). 74. Noel Carroll, The Philosophy of Horror: Or, Paradoxes of the Heart (New York: Routledge, 2003), 158–214. 75. Ahmed, Cultural Politics of Emotion, 84. 76. Ahmed argues that disgust is a communal act in which describing something as disgusting “generates a community of those who are bound together through the shared condemnation of a disgusting object or event” (Ahmed, Cultural Politics of Emotion, 94). 77. Duff, Who Rides the Beast?, 98. See also Douglas’ article “Deciphering a Meal” in Mary Douglas, Implicit Meanings: Mary Douglas: Collected Works. Vol. 5 (New York: Routledge, 2002), 249–75. 78. Duff, Who Rides the Beast?, 98. 79. This is most apparent in Rev. 18 where the merchants lament for the lost income they derive from empire including the trade in humans (v. 13). 80. Ahmed, Cultural Politics of Emotion, 93. 81. Julia Kristeva, Powers of Horror: An Essay on Abjection, European Perspectives (New York: Columbia University Press, 1982), 4. 82. Kristeva, Powers of Horror, 2. 83. J. Z. Smith, “What a Difference a Difference Makes,” in “To See Ourselves as Others See Us”: Christians, Jews, “others” in Late Antiquity, ed. Jacob Neusner, Ernest F. Frerichs, and Caroline McCracken-Flesher, Scholars Press Studies in the Humanities Series (Chico: Scholars Press, 1985), 5. For a helpful application of J. Z. Smith’s “proximate other” applied to Jezebel, see John W. Marshall, “Gender and Empire: Sexualized Violence in John’s Anti-Imperial Apocalypse,” in A Feminist Companion to the Apocalypse of John, ed. Amy-Jill Levine (London: T&T Clark, 2009), 22–23. 84. Ahmed argues that the very act of proclaiming something as “disgusting” entails a proximity either through touch or ingesting it. The speech act of labeling something as revolting is a means of creating distance between oneself and that object (Ahmed, Cultural Politics of Emotion, 94). 85. Kristeva, Powers of Horror, 3. 86. Kristeva, Powers of Horror, 73. For a helpful discussion of the monstrous mother in Kristeva’s work, see Barbara Creed, The Monstrous-Feminine: Film, Feminism, Psychoanalysis (London: Routledge, 2015), 8–15. 87. Huber, Thinking and Seeing with Women in Revelation, 11. 88. Scholars have ascribed to modern empires the label of Babylon including the apartheid system of South Africa and the genocide of the Balkan Wars (Allan A. Boesak, Comfort and Protest: The Apocalypse of John from a South African Perspective [Eugene: Wipf and Stock, 2015]; Miroslav Volf, Exclusion & Embrace:

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A Theological Exploration of Identity, Otherness, and Reconciliation [Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2010]). See the discussion in Brian K. Blount, Can I Get a Witness?: Reading Revelation through African American Culture (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2005), 31–35. 89. G. K. Beale, The Book of Revelation: A Commentary on the Greek Text, New International Greek Testament Commentary (Grand Rapids: W. B. Eerdmans, 1999), 861. 90. Aune, Revelation 17-22, 938. 91. Tina Pippin, Apocalyptic Bodies: The Biblical End of the World in Text and Image (London: Routledge, 1999), 92; Christopher A. Frilingos, Spectacles of Empire: Monsters, Martyrs, and the Book of Revelation, Divinations (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2004), 59. 92. Carroll, The Philosophy of Horror, 159. 93. Kristeva, Powers of Horror, 1. 94. Pippin, Apocalyptic Bodies, 92. 95. Ahmed notes, “Disgust brings the body perilously close to an object only then to pull away from the object in the registering of the proximity as an offence” (Ahmed, Cultural Politics of Emotion, 85). 96. However, even on this more sanitized level of interpretation, the destruction of empire would have serious consequences for people in all levels of society. 97. Steven J. Friesen, Imperial Cults and the Apocalypse of John: Reading Revelation in the Ruins (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 17. 98. Edward W. Said, Culture and Imperialism (New York: Knopf, 1993), 9 as quoted in Friesen, 15. 99. Anathea E. Portier-Young, Apocalypse Against Empire: Theologies of Resistance in Early Judaism (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2014), 14. 100. Huber, Thinking and Seeing with Women in Revelation, 53–55. 101. Huber, Thinking and Seeing with Women in Revelation, 70–71. 102. Huber points to the womb as a receptacle and the city as a walled entity that houses and protects its populace (Huber, Thinking and Seeing with Women in Revelation, 54–55). 103. This passage evokes Isaiah’s haunting description of Edom’s judgment where it is reduced to nothing receiving the name “No Kingdom There” (Isa 34:12). 104. Huber, Thinking and Seeing with Women in Revelation, 71–72. 105. Ahmed, Cultural Politics of Emotion, 87. 106. Ahmed, Cultural Politics of Emotion, 87. 107. Huber, Thinking and Seeing with Women in Revelation, 72. 108. Maia Kotrosits proposes that imperials ruins “are the remains through which certain diasporic aspirations and colonial experiences are articulated and considered” (Maia Kotrosits, “Babylon’s Fall: Figuring Diaspora in and through Ruins,” The Bible & Critical Theory 11, no. 2 [2015]: 3). 109. Robert Seesengood, Competing Identities: The Athlete and the Gladiator in Early Christian Literature (London: T&T Clark, 2006), 74–75; Burrus, Saving Shame, 14–19.

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110. Huber notes the many instances (Rev. 4:1–2; 6:2, 5, 8; 7:9; 14:1, 14; 19:11) where John uses the imperative “look” (idou) calling his audience’s attention to his fantastic visions (Huber, “Gazing at the Whore,” 303). 111. Fletcher is particularly critical of Rossing’s arguments (Fletcher, “Flesh for Franken-Whore,” 157). Rossing, The Choice Between Two Cities, 87–97. 112. In his commentary, Koester repeatedly notes the ambiguous language used for both women and cities relating to the punishments inflicted on Woman Babylon (Koester, Revelation, 680–81). 113. In her work on the monstrous hybrid eagle vision of 4 Ezra 11:1–12:3, Rebecca Raphael notes a similar treatment in the destruction of the monstrous body. She states, “Mythically, there is one right way to kill a monster: redundantly” (Rebecca Raphael, “Monsters and the Crippled Cosmos: Construction of the Other in Fourth Ezra,” in The “Other” in Second Temple Judaism: Essays in Honor of John J. Collins, ed. Daniel C. Harlow et al. [Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2011], 290). The eagle, in similar fashion to Woman Babylon, is destroyed completely including dismemberment (or a gradual disappearance) and burning (4 Ezra 12:3). 114. Smith, The Woman Babylon and the Marks of Empire, 131. 115. Aune, Revelation 17-22, 956–57; Beale, The Book of Revelation, 883; Koester, Revelation, 680, 693. 116. Ahmed, Cultural Politics of Emotion, 43, 51. 117. Ahmed, Cultural Politics of Emotion, 53. 118. Greg Carey, Elusive Apocalypse: Reading Authority in the Revelation to John, Studies in American Biblical Hermeneutics 15 (Macon: Mercer University Press, 1999), 156–57. 119. Strømmen, “The Politics of the Beast,” 159. 120. Aune, Revelation 17-22, 957; Rossing, The Choice Between Two Cities, 87–97. 121. Koester, Revelation, 693–95. 122. Huber observes that Britannia’s hair is held by the Emperor Claudius who stands behind her in a highly suggestive sexualized pose (Huber, Thinking and Seeing with Women in Revelation, 45). 123. Vander Stichele, “Re-Membering the Whore,” 108. 124. Pippin, Death and Desire, 67. 125. Koester, Revelation, 680. 126. Stephen D. Moore, God’s Beauty Parlor: And Other Queer Spaces in and Around the Bible (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2001), 196. 127. Strømmen, “The Politics of the Beast,” 155. 128. The NRSV translation “. . . and all the birds were gorged with their flesh” is particular appropriate in capturing the horror of this carnage. 129. Resseguie, Revelation Unsealed, 120–21. 130. Dana Oswald, Monsters, Gender and Sexuality in Medieval English Literature (Woodbridge: Boydell & Brewer, 2010), 2. 131. Rossing argues that the metaphor should primarily be viewed as an assault against the city and not a woman (Rossing, The Choice Between Two Cities, 88). 132. Even Jezebel’s eunuch that betrays her by pushing her to the death echoes the actions of the beast and kings that turn on Woman Babylon.

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133. Caird, A Commentary on the Revelation of St. John the Divine, 221. 134. See the discussion in Vander Stichele regarding scholarly justifications for the violence enacted upon Woman Babylon (Vander Stichele, “Re-Membering the Whore,” 106–7). 135. Huber, Thinking and Seeing with Women in Revelation, 73. 136. Pippin, Apocalyptic Bodies, 91. 137. Smith, The Woman Babylon and the Marks of Empire, 91–92. 138. Pippin, Death and Desire, 58–59. 139. Pippin, 59; Kim, “‘Uncovering Her Wickedness’”; Vander Stichele, “Re-Membering the Whore,” 116; Smith, The Woman Babylon and the Marks of Empire, 127. 140. Jean K. Kim refers to this tension by stating, “However, when we, female readers, engage in reading a biblical text such as Revelation 17, which contains brutal violence against a woman, we are placed in a double bind because we are forced to betray our sexual identity in order to share the perspective of the author/God; otherwise we have to identify ourselves with the female object in the text” (Kim, “‘Uncovering Her Wickedness’,” 61–62). 141. Frilingos, Spectacles of Empire, 60. 142. Frilingos, Spectacles of Empire, 60. 143. Surekha Nelavala, “‘Babylon the Great Mother of Whores’ (Rev 17:5): A Postcolonial Feminist Perspective,” The Expository Times 121, no. 2 (November 2009): 61. 144. Nelavala, “‘Babylon the Great Mother of Whores’ (Rev 17:5),” 61. 145. Nelavala, “‘Babylon the Great Mother of Whores’ (Rev 17:5),” 64. 146. Adela Yarbro Collins, Crisis and Catharsis: The Power of the Apocalypse (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1984), 161. 147. Kim, “‘Uncovering Her Wickedness’,” 74.

Conclusion Monsters Matter

I would suggest, then, that the monsters are not an inexplicable blunder of taste; they are essential . . .1 Tolkien, Beowulf: The Monsters and the Critics

In a 1936 paper, J.R.R. Tolkien reversed common perceptions on the poem Beowulf by reinstating the importance and essentiality of the monster to the tale.2 He argues that the monsters should not be pushed to the edges of the poem (or the interpretations of critics) but that their centrality be maintained. The dragon, for Tolkien, is a necessary adversary for the hero that elevates Beowulf from the everyday to the universal or cosmic.3 These sentiments on the indispensability of the monster have since won the day and society’s preoccupation with monsters has only increased with time. This holds true for the study of John’s Apocalypse that teems with monstrous creatures on almost every page. However, like older views of Beowulf, the tendency is to keep the monsters on the outskirts of the text in John’s visions, relegated to the abyss. For many scholars, John’s monsters are hybrid beasts whose alignment with the forces of evil is evident from their hideous bodies that break boundaries. Yet, as I have argued throughout, the majority of divine beings in John’s visions are hybrid and liminal creatures that challenge the boundaries of the possible. In effect, this book has been an excavation of the monstrous form, unearthing fantastical bodies in places not expected. Moreover, it has made strange alliances between divine creatures by reshaping the borders and boundaries normally assumed as separate and inviolable. John’s dualistic worldview, common to apocalypses, sets up a realm where the forces of good are pitted against those of evil. However, this 171

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binary understanding is unsustainable for encompassing the complexity of monstrous forms and the porous nature of the cosmic world. Using the lens of monster theory, I view the monster not primarily as evil but as a sign or warning of its otherness and using Otto’s language its “awefulness.”4 This is not an attempt to sanitize or romanticize the monster; they remain dangerous, threatening, and destructive beings. However, to view the monster only as evil or malevolent is to ignore the fantastic and horrific features of beings typically deemed good or benevolent in John’s visions. As noted throughout this book, scholars point to the hybridity of the monster as symbolic bodies of impurity that combine disparate species as evidence of their countercreational status. When the same criteria of hybridity are applied to good or benevolent beings, they instead become examples of the harmony of God’s creation. Leonard Thompson’s remark exemplifies this, “By transgressing these ordinary boundary distinctions, the seer creates awesome figures of divinity as well as of monstrous evil.”5 Though Thompson recognizes their common hybrid natures, he continues to maintain a boundary between the awesome and the monstrous. In contrast, my approach is to treat all divine creatures as monstrous that share common characteristics of hybridity and liminality. It is their actions rather than their appearance that aligns them with the forces under God and the Lamb versus the army of the Dragon. Therefore, I come to the crux of the problem: What is a monster? How do we read the composite creatures of John’s Apocalypse? As Tina Pippin has noted, “Anything outside God’s territory and control is deemed monstrous, but anything inside God’s realm can be monstrous, too.”6 The diversity and ubiquity of composite forms in Revelation presents an alternative to binary thinking regarding hybridity. There are multiple examples of malevolent hybrid figures but there is also room for the marvelous and extraordinary hybrid body. In and of itself, hybridity has no bearing on whether a creature is considered evil or good.7 Instead, these hybrid identities disturb natural boundaries to provoke awe, fascination, dread, and fear regardless of their propensity toward humanity or other divine creatures. When Revelation scholars see hybridity only as disgusting, they lose sight of the liminal and uncanny experience that divine creatures, both benevolent and malevolent, are capable of engendering.8 Monster theory also complements other reading strategies like postcolonialism and feminism, examining the issue of the other and the boundaries between communities. It calls for a more sustained understanding of what a community views as monster but it also forces the interpreter to be self-aware of their own biases when reading ancient texts. How different really are the locusts sent by God to destroy the earth in Revelation from the living creatures surrounding the divine throne that instigate multiple judgments and terror? While we may reject one hybrid and embrace the other, it does not hide the multiple composite and monstrous

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forms found throughout the visions of John’s Apocalypse despite an inclination to domesticate them. This dilemma is not unlike what one finds in Frankenstein, whose themes and images have reappeared multiple times in my examination of John’s monsters. Mary Shelley’s creation also questions the boundaries between humanity and the monster, forcing readers to reevaluate their notions of who is indeed the most monstrous. According to her husband, Shelley admittedly approached her novel with the intent to create a ghost story “to curdle the blood, and quicken the beatings of the heart.”9 Her creature is a curious entity who simultaneously draws sympathy for its neglect and yet generates revulsion regarding its crimes. Walton’s reaction upon first encountering the creature is described as “a mixture of curiosity and compassion” and yet concurrently he instinctively recoils from “a vision so horrible of his face, of such loathsome, yet appalling hideousness.”10 Though the physical form of Frankenstein’s creature is disturbing, the reader cannot help but be drawn to the monster who exclaims, “Cursed creator! Why did you form a monster so hideous that even you turned from me in disgust?”11 As Timothy K. Beal notes, it is Victor Frankenstein who has ventured “beyond accepted biological boundaries.”12 Shelley’s novel cannot be reduced to a facile binary between hero and monster as the lines between the two oscillate and shift. It is this thin line between the human and the monster that produces the most terror. A final boundary that I have challenged regarding one’s understanding of the monstrous, is an overemphasis on the use of parody in John’s Apocalypse as applied to hybridity. This is especially pertinent when the uncanny similarities between the divine creatures are reduced to rhetoric on the part of John. The strange affinity of the beasts with the Lamb, evidenced especially in their appearance, is understood as a monstrous mimicry of the divine. There is no doubt that John employs parody, but the rhetoric is so persuasive because the beasts and the Lamb are essentially not that different. Monstrosity is not relegated to the abyss but is characteristic of all divine beings in John’s visions. By extending the label of “monster” to all cosmic entities, it levels the playing field and promotes a new evaluation of liminal beings like the four horsemen and locusts. Rather than aligning divine creatures based on one’s reaction to their deformed appearance, I have shown that even the bodies of God and the Lamb participate in this unsettling hybridity. John’s use of monstrosity has no boundaries, it encompasses creatures in heaven and in the netherworld. Instead of excusing God’s alignment with questionable forces like the locusts or Abaddon, I propose that they form part of God’s horrific army. This admittedly leads one into “deeply unsettling theological territory,” where the lines between good and evil are not as clear.13 Though one might be inclined to diminish the links between the divine throne and the numerous plagues inflicted upon humanity, John unabashedly maintains them. A pattern

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emerges of a strange army composed of beings like the four riders (Rev. 6:1–8), the terrifying locusts (Rev. 9:1–11), and the horrific cavalry (Rev. 9:13–21) that is led by the more “safe” and “familiar” figures like the living creatures and angels. Perhaps the scariest part of John’s Apocalypse is not his monsters, but the realization that these domesticated ideas of the divine are but an illusion. John’s visions force the reader to confront the monstrosity of the divine both in heaven and the abyss. NOTES 1. J. R. R. Tolkien, “Beowulf: The Monsters and the Critics,” in The Monsters and the Critics and Other Essays, ed. Christopher Tolkien (London: George Allen & Unwin, 1983), 19. 2. Tolkien, “Beowulf: The Monsters and the Critics.” 3. Tolkien, “Beowulf: The Monsters and the Critics,” 19. 4. Rudolf Otto, The Idea of the Holy (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1958), 12–24. 5. Leonard L. Thompson, The Book of Revelation: Apocalypse and Empire (New York: Oxford University Press, 1990), 77. 6. Tina Pippin, “‘Behold, I Stand at the Door and Knock’: The Living Dead and Apocalyptic Dystopia,” The Bible & Critical Theory 6, no. 3 (2010): 40.4. 7. Ballentine also notes that the composite nature of Tiamat predisposes scholars to view her as evil despite the presence of composite cherubim in the biblical texts. See Debra Scoggins Ballentine, The Conflict Myth and the Biblical Tradition (New York: Oxford University Press, 2015), 187. 8. Mark S. Smith, Where the Gods Are: Spatial Dimensions of Anthropomorphism in the Biblical World, Anchor Bible Yale Reference Library (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2016), 57. 9. Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley and J. Paul Hunter, Frankenstein: The 1818 Text, Contexts, Nineteenth-Century Responses, Modern Criticism (New York: W.W. Norton, 1996), 171. The preface to the 1818 text was written by Percy Bysshe Shelley. 10. Shelley and Hunter, Frankenstein, 152. 11. Shelley and Hunter, Frankenstein, 88. 12. Timothy K. Beal, Religion and Its Monsters (New York: Routledge, 2002), 194. 13. Beal, Religion and Its Monsters, 3.

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General Index

Abaddon (and falling star), 84–86 abjection, 26, 32–36, 132, 136, 150–55 abyss, 2, 5–6, 12, 18, 36, 45, 63, 75, 81– 94, 110, 114–15, 133–34, 171, 173–74 accommodation, 5, 19, 31–33, 52, 54, 93, 102, 109, 114, 127–32, 150–51; as contamination, 32, 35–36, 150–58 affect theory, 33, 144, 150–51 angel, angels, 76–81, 89–90, 112; guardians, 115, 134; punishing angels, 45–46, 77, 83–86, 89–90; revelation, 30, 146–47, 152, 155, 157; Son of Man as angelic, 56–58 Antiochus Epiphanes IV, 107, 111, 135 Asia Minor, 5, 28–29, 36, 58, 114, 127–30, 146, 149 assemblies, 3–5, 18–19, 26–37, 54, 58–59, 92–93, 102, 107–10, 113–14, 116, 127–31, 143–44, 149–61, 172; Pergamum, 114; Thyatira, 5, 28, 30, 32, 34, 37 assimilation. See accommodation awe (as response to the monstrous), 17, 48, 55, 58, 81, 105, 126, 172 Babylon (city), 46, 63, 103, 143–47, 149, 153–61 Balaam (opponent of John), 28 beasts, 2, 11–12, 19, 31, 41, 45–46, 60–61, 63–66, 75–76, 85–86, 90–94,

105–7, 114–15, 124–28, 130–36, 145–47, 149, 152–59, 171–73; beast from the earth, 83, 106, 114, 128–32; beast from the sea, 2, 11, 33–34, 106–8, 114–15, 124–33; in Daniel, 107, 111, 125–28; generic, 10, 47–48, 59–60, 94, 106, 123–24, 126, 155, 157; image of the beast, 124, 130–33 Behemoth, 128–29 Bhabha, Homi K., 18, 26–27, 35, 52, 109 binary (binaries), 4, 27, 32, 75, 143, 154, 156, 171–72; chaos and order, 14, 49, 103–4; Destroyer and Creator, 85–86, 89; good and evil, 1–3, 14, 47, 60–61, 76, 88, 104, 173; hero and monster, 108, 133, 173 borders. See boundaries boundaries: of animals, 15–16; of the body, 1, 32–33, 35–36, 173; between cosmic spaces, 2, 5, 17–18, 63–65, 75, 80–81, 86, 93, 108–16, 124–25, 128, 154–55; between genres, 3; of human communities, 3–5, 16–19, 26–36, 114, 116, 128, 130–34, 144– 46, 150–56, 160–61, 172; between life and death, 26, 55, 127; of the monstrous figure, 4, 10–13, 15–18, 27, 46–59, 65, 76–77, 94, 108, 123– 27, 148, 151, 160, 171–73

191

192

General Index

Carroll, Noel, 4, 16, 55–56, 86–87, 106–8, 132, 152 cavalry (cosmic), 89–91 chaos, 13–15, 45, 47, 49, 102–4, 135, 159 Chaoskampf, 13–15, 103–4. See also conflict myth cherubim, 11, 16, 53, 77–81, 88 cities of Asia Minor: competition among, 128, 146; relation to Rome, 130, 154 Cohen, Jeffrey Jerome, 80, 102, 126, 129, 133 colonial. See postcolonialism conflict myth, 13–15, 76, 103–4, 125, 136 contamination. See accommodation Death and Hades, 84, 115, 135. See also places of punishment demon(s) and/or demonic, 2, 6, 9, 12–15, 61, 75–78, 81–91, 94, 112–13, 115, 155, 157; daimon, 78; origins, 78 Derrida, Jacques, 102 devil. See Satan disgust, 10–12, 15–17, 55, 87, 106–8, 124, 132, 144–46, 149–55, 158–59, 172–73 divine army, 12–13, 75–76, 78–94, 115, 124 divine warrior, 45–46, 54, 61–66, 76, 83, 103, 107 Douglas, Mary, 15–17 Dragon, 2, 9, 12, 18, 31, 34, 45, 60–61, 63, 66, 75–76, 84, 86, 90–92, 101– 16, 124–29, 131–35, 145, 172 dragons (generic), 13–14, 84, 90, 92, 101– 5, 107–8, 115–16, 124–25, 133, 171 Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde (novel), 1 earth (as monster), 113 Elijah, 32, 92–93, 112 empire. See Roman Empire Enuma Elish, 13–15, 103–4, 133; Marduk, 14–15, 103–4, 133; Tiamat, 13–15, 103–4, 133, 158

evil, 1–4, 6, 9–10, 12–17, 47–48, 55, 60–61, 65, 75–78, 81–83, 85, 87–91, 94, 104–5, 146, 159, 171–74 exile: Babylonian, 13, 47, 149; John on Patmos, 29; Woman Babylon, 154–55 Exodus (tradition), 86, 90 fantastic: fantasy theory, 18; monstrous bodies, 4, 9, 14, 18, 46, 56, 65, 86, 94, 105–6, 113, 171–72 fear: of angels, 81, 93–94; of assimilation and/or contamination, 32, 156; experienced by John, 49, 57, 152, 158; of God and Christ, 1, 49, 62, 65; of monsters, 4, 10, 49, 55, 102, 105, 108, 126, 172 feminist criticism, 26–27, 36, 150, 159–61 Foucault, Michel, 110 four horsemen/riders of the Apocalypse, 75–76, 81–84, 173–74 four living creatures, 12, 15, 45, 53, 75, 78–84, 87–88, 94, 105, 107, 172–74 Frankenstein (novel), 1, 25–26, 31, 47, 55, 112, 132, 145, 160, 173 Freud, Sigmund, 10 Girard, René, 11, 32, 45, 54–55; monstrous double, 11, 32 God: as Alpha and Omega, 53; as beast, 47–50; as divine warrior, 45–46, 64–65, 103, 107; as Father (parent), 47–49, 51, 127; “the one sitting on the throne,” 46, 51–54, 57, 60, 63, 80, 83, 108, 110, 114, 116 good and evil. See binary Greco-Roman mythology: Cerberus, 80, 108; chimera, 90; drakontes, 105, 108; Heracles, 80, 108, 115, 133; Hydra, 12, 105, 108, 112, 115, 133; Leto, 112; Medusa, 108, 146; Odysseus, 112; Python, 105, 107, 112; Scylla, 126; Sphinx, 12, 80, 123; Typhon, 105–7 Gunkel, Hermann, 13–14

General Index

hero (narrative), 14–15, 80, 101, 103–4, 108, 116, 133, 171–73 holy, 5, 15–16, 48–49, 80–81 horror philosophy, 4, 16; attraction/ fascination to monsters, 4, 10, 16–17, 108, 136, 151–53, 158, 172; fantastic biologies, 4, 56, 95, 106; fission creature, 55–56, 61; fusion creature, 55, 57, 62, 79, 87, 105; horrific metonymy, 106, 132; magnification, 105 (of serpents), 106–7; massification, 86–87, 107; phobic creatures, 86, 106–7. See also monster theory hybridity, 2–6, 9–17, 19, 25, 29, 35–37, 49–63, 65, 75–81, 86–94, 104–9, 113, 123–29, 158–60, 171–74; as impure, 15–17, 154–55; as unnatural, 9–10, 13–15, 87–90 idolatry: food sacrificed to idols, 5, 28, 32–33, 109, 131, 144, 148–52, 157; image of the beast, 131–32 imperial cult. See Roman Empire Isidore of Seville, 9 Jentsch, Ernst, 10 Jesus: Lamb (hybrid), 2, 11–12, 54–56, 59–67, 75, 81–83, 85–86, 105, 107, 110, 113, 115–16, 124, 127, 129, 131, 133–34, 143, 157, 159, 161, 172–73; Lion (hybrid), 54–55, 59–65; Rider, 55, 58–59, 63–65, 114, 134, 148, 158; Son of Man/God, 30, 35, 55–60, 63–66 Jewish War, 29 Jezebel (Queen), 34, 158 Jezebel of Thyatira, 5, 18–19, 26–28, 30–37, 109, 113, 130–31, 143–44, 147–48, 150, 158 John of Patmos: author, 2–3, 26–37; as prophet, 29–30 judgments: bowls, 46, 81; seals, 49, 60–63, 76, 82; trumpets, 76, 83–84, 89

193

Kristeva, Julia, 32, 151–53 lake of fire, 85, 110, 115, 133–36 lamb (generic), 59–61, 129 Lamb (hybrid). See Jesus Lefebvre, Henri, 110 Leviathan, 105, 126, 128 liminality, 2, 4–6, 10–12, 17–19, 26–27, 29–31, 52–54, 57–59, 63, 65, 84, 93, 102, 109–16, 123–24, 127, 130, 136, 149–53, 158–61, 171–73 lion (generic), 47, 59–61, 79–80, 87, 90, 125, 129 Lion (hybrid). See Jesus locusts, 2, 15, 46, 75–76, 83–90, 94, 115, 172–74 mark of the beast, 45, 132, 134 metaphors: Babylon, 143–46, 149–58, 161; Christ, 61–62, 64–65; God, 11, 45–49, 51, 53; harlot (also marital), 34–35, 144–45, 151, 153–58; Jezebel, 32–33, 36; two witnesses, 92 Michael, 85 mimicry, 11–12, 27, 37, 52, 54, 102, 113, 161, 173 monster theory, 2, 4, 9–11, 16–19, 26–27, 31–32, 46–50, 57, 65, 88, 102, 115, 151, 172. See also horror philosophy; hybridity; liminality mother: Jezebel, 35–36; as metaphor, 144–46, 149–52; monstrous, 14, 35–36, 144–46, 149–52; Woman Babylon, 33–36, 144–46, 149–52 mouth (of monster), 14, 57–58, 63–64, 84, 87, 90, 92, 103, 108, 112–13, 125, 127, 132, 134 mysterium tremendum, 48, 58, 81 New Jerusalem, 2, 65–66, 114, 134–35, 147 Nicolaitans, 28, 32 order, 13–16, 47, 49, 55, 87–88, 103–4, 111, 134, 145, 151

194

General Index

otherness: of Christ, 54–66; of divine creatures, 11, 13, 49, 77–84, 91–94, 107; of Dragon and beasts, 31, 105, 127–28; of God, 47–53, 65–66; of Jezebel, 19, 31–36; of John, 26–32, 36; of monsters, 2, 4, 6, 10–12, 17, 32, 49, 102, 172; of space, 110; of Tiamat, 14–15; of Woman Babylon, 145–58, 160–61 Otto, Rudolf, 48, 58, 81, 172 Paradise Lost, 1 Parody, 6, 11–12, 37, 52, 102, 124, 127, 129, 131–34, 149, 157, 173 Patmos, 29–31 Paul, 28 places of punishment, 85, 90; Hades, 80, 84; pit, 84–85, 90, 115; Tartarus, 85. See also abyss plagues, 45, 85–87, 90, 92, 173 postcolonialism, 2–3, 18, 26–30, 35–36, 46, 52, 54, 62, 66, 88, 108–10, 128, 130–31, 144, 152, 155, 159–61, 172 prophet: false prophet, 34, 90, 115, 132, 134–35; Hebrew Bible, 13, 29–30, 34, 46–47, 125, 144, 151; Jezebel, 26, 30, 32–35, 109; John of Patmos, 3, 28–29; two witnesses as prophets, 92 prostitute(s), 33, 144–51, 156–61; hetaira, 147; pornē, 147–48 punishment (also torture) of the monster, 35, 115, 133–36, 144, 153–61 Revelation (book): date, 29; genre, 3, 31; Jewish setting, 3, 28–30; as prophecy, 3, 30 Rider (on the white horse). See Jesus Roma (goddess), 149 Roman Empire: imperial cult and images, 2, 5, 11, 19, 26–27, 29–34, 46, 52, 54, 58–59, 62, 64, 66, 108– 14, 116, 127–31, 144, 149–50, 152, 154–55, 158–60; koinon, 129–30

Rome: center of the world, 5, 110, 154; cosmology, 110–11; relationship to Asia Minor, 29, 128, 146; relationship to Judea, 29; worship of emperor, 31, 131 Satan (and the satan), 1, 55, 77, 84–86, 88; Belial, 78, 85; Job, 47; Revelation, 9, 32, 84–86, 88–89, 91, 102, 109, 114–15, 128, 134 satire, 11 scroll, 51, 59–60 sea, 103, 113–15, 124–27, 135 seals, 59, 61, 63, 76, 82 serpent/snake(s), 14, 86, 90–91, 102, 105, 107, 112, 126, 129, 146 Shelley, Mary, 1, 25–26, 47, 132, 145, 160, 173 signs: of the beasts, 130, 152; Derrida, 102; Dragon, 102; Moses and Elijah, 92; sēmeion (definition), 102, 111; Woman clothed with the sun, 102 Soja, Edward W., 110 Son of Man/God. See Jesus spatial theory, 18–19, 54, 84, 109–15, 154–55; contested space, 18, 104, 111, 114; middle space, 18; otherworld, 112, 113; Thirdspace, 110–13 Spivak, Gayatri Chakravorty, 27, 35; subaltern, 27, 35 statues, 131–32 sword, 56–58, 63–64, 134 tattoo, 145, 148–49 temple, 5, 13, 30, 47, 51, 80, 91, 134 throne: in heaven, 2, 5, 11, 19, 30–31, 35, 45–46, 49–54, 58–60, 76, 78–84, 89, 94, 110–11, 114, 116, 136, 172– 73; Satan’s throne, 114 Turner, Victor, 17–18 two witnesses, 75, 83, 91–94 Ugaritic mythology, 104–5, 107–8, 126, 128; Baal, 104; Mot, 14, 104, 108; Yam, 14

General Index

uncanny, 1, 6, 10–12, 37, 54, 56, 65–66, 76–77, 94, 102, 107, 123–24, 127, 135, 143–44, 150, 172–73 unheimlich, 10–11, 29, 125, 150 van Gennep, Arnold, 17–18 violence: Christ, 49, 59–66, 83; Dragon and beasts, 61–62, 108, 112–13, 132, 172; God, 13–14, 45–54, 59–60, 81, 83, 85–86; from heaven, 2, 82–83, 114; John, 34–36, 62, 144, 154–60 Whore of Babylon. See Woman Babylon

195

wilderness, 110–13, 147, 154–55 Woman Babylon, 19, 33–36, 106, 134, 143–61 woman clothed with the sun, 83, 102, 111–13, 147, 154 womanist criticism, 147–48, 156, 159 worship: of the angel, 153; of Christ, 27–28; of the Dragon and/ or beast(s), 63, 85, 108, 114, 124, 127, 130–32, 136, 153; of emperor, 31, 131; of God, 31, 53–54, 79, 110 Zion (mount), 63, 127, 149

Index of Ancient Sources

ANCIENT NEAR EASTERN TEXTS Enuma Elish I, 90-100, 14 III, 15-39, 14 IV, 45-54, 14 IV, 135-39, 14 The Baal Cycle (KTU) 1.3 III 32, 95n10 1.3 III 38-46, 105, 107, 126 1.5 I 1-8, 105, 107, 126 1.5 II 2-4, 108 1.6 II 17-19, 108 THE HEBREW BIBLE Genesis 1, 13 1:24 (LXX), 126 2–3, 132 3:24, 11, 80 6:1-4, 78 6:2, 95n9 7, 13 11:1-9, 13 16:7-14, 112 18, 68n42 19:24, 91

19:28, 91 21:15-19, 112 49:17, 91 Exodus 3, 112 9:23, 92 10:14, 86 12:12-13, 85 12:23, 46, 77, 85–86 15:11, 108, 138n34 16, 112 19:16-25, 53 20:18-21, 53 24:1-11, 68n41 33:17-23, 68n41 Leviticus 7:26-27, 165n67 11:27, 15 17:10-16, 165n67 18:6-18, 16 18:23, 16 19:19, 16 Numbers 14:29, 112 19:11-13, 93 21, 91 197

198

Deuteronomy 29:23, 91 32:39, 132 33:2-3, 46, 77 Joshua 5:14, 77 Judges 5:4-5, 46 5:20, 46, 77 1 Samuel 4:4, 79 2 Samuel 22:9, 91 24:16, 86 1 Kings 8:7, 11, 81 18, 92 19, 112 19:4-9, 112 22:19-23, 77 2 Kings 1:9-12, 92 6:17, 77 9:30-37, 158 9:37, 158 19, 85 1 Chronicles 21:15, 86 Job 1–2, 77, 89 2:3, 47 6:4, 47 7:20, 47 9:13-21, 47 10:16, 59 16:9, 47 16:12-14, 47

Index of Ancient Sources

25:5, 112 38–41, 48 38:7, 84 40:15, 128 40:15-18, 128 40:20-24, 128 41, 126 Psalms 8:6, 95n9 35:10, 138n34 68:17, 77 74:13-14, 46, 126 74:14, 107, 112 77:16, 125 78:49, 85, 98n74 78:49-50a, 90 82, 77 89:6-9, 77 89:10-11, 46 104:11, 126 114:5, 125 Isaiah 2:19, 67n29 6, 51, 79, 119n55 6:2, 91 6:3, 79 6:6, 91 7:17-19, 14 11:4, 70n82 13:2-5, 46 13:6, 46 13:9, 46 13:10, 46 13:13, 46 14:13, 119n56 14:29, 91 24:21-22, 115 25:8, 108 27:1, 105, 126 34:9-10, 91 34:12, 167 34:12-15, 112 37:16, 79

Index of Ancient Sources

44:6, 53 45:7, 47 49:2, 70n82 49:18, 149 51, 13 51:9, 126 51:9-11, 46 54:1-3, 149 63, 73 63:1-3, 64 Jeremiah 2:24, 145 4:6-7, 14 5:14, 92 18:11b, 47 19:10-11, 14 22:7, 85 26:3b, 47 36:3, 47 51:14, 103 51:20-22, 103 51:33, 103 51:34, 103, 108, 125 51:41b-43a, 103 Lamentations 1, 155 2, 14 2:5, 14 3:10-11, 59 Ezekiel 1, 79, 83, 105, 137n18 1:1-4, 40n53 1:5-25, 79 1:6, 79 1:24, 57 1:26, 51, 68n40, 80 1:26-28, 70n78 3:3, 41n59 3:12, 30 3:14, 30 8:3, 30 8:6, 132

199

9:1-10:7, 46, 77, 85 9:3-11, 89 10, 11, 79, 81 10:7, 81 11:24, 30 14:21, 84 16, 156 23, 156 23:9, 156 23:20, 145 26:6, 149 26:8, 149 28:14, 80 29:3, 125 38:22, 91 40–48, 77 Daniel 7, 51, 56, 105, 111, 125, 129, 137n19 7–8, 77 7:4-6, 129 7:7, 129 7:9, 51–52, 56, 68n40 7:11, 111 7:21, 128 8:9-11, 128 8:10, 84, 107, 111 10, 70n78 10:2-5, 40n53 10:5-6, 56 Hosea 11:10-11, 59 Joel 2, 46, 86 2:6, 87 2:31, 66n4 Amos 3:8, 59 9:3, 91 Habakkuk 3, 46

200

Zechariah 1–6, 77 1:7-11, 83 3, 77 4, 92 6:1-8, 83 9:7 (LXX), 149 THE NEW TESTAMENT Matthew 12:43, 112 Mark 1:12-14, 112 1:13, 126 13:14, 149 Luke 2:8-13, 77 4:29, 112 8:31, 84 John 3:14-15, 91 Romans 10:7, 84 14, 28 1 Corinthians 8:1-11, 28 2 Peter 2:4, 85 Jude 6, 85 Revelation 1, 57, 70n78 1:1, 3, 28, 30 1:3, 3, 30 1:4, 53

Index of Ancient Sources

1:8, 53 1:9, 28–29, 31 1:9-20, 54–56 1:12-17, 63 1:12-18, 56 1:13, 56–57, 63, 70n90 1:14, 63 1:14-15, 56 1:16, 57, 63, 100n110 1:17, 57 1:17-18, 57–58 1:19, 30 1:19-20, 57 1:20, 58, 63 2–3, 28–29, 58, 157 2:1, 30 2:6, 28 2:8, 30 2:12, 30 2:12-13, 114 2:12-28, 5 2:14, 28 2:15, 28 2:16, 100n110 2:18, 30 2:18-29, 5, 19 2:20, 30, 32–33 2:20-23, 28 2:22, 32, 35–36 2:22-23, 35 3:1, 30 3:7, 30 3:14, 30 4, 31, 50, 52, 59 4–5, 15, 19, 78, 91, 110 4:1, 110 4:1-2, 168n110 4:2-3, 51 4:2-8, 110 4:3, 50–51 4:5, 50, 53, 83 4:6, 136n8 4:6b, 80 4:6b-8, 79

Index of Ancient Sources

4:8, 53, 79 4:9, 51, 53 4:10, 51 4:11, 46 5, 11, 60, 129 5–6, 2 5:1, 51 5:5b-6, 59 5:6, 63, 138n34, 139n36 5:6-14, 54–55, 59 5:7, 51 5:9, 63 5:11-14, 110 5:12, 61, 63 5:13, 51, 61 5:13-14, 46 6, 60, 63 6–9, 76 6:1, 61, 82–84 6:1-7, 76, 81 6:1-8, 53, 174 6:2, 168n110 6:3, 61, 81 6:5, 61, 81, 168n110 6:7, 61, 81 6:8, 84, 168n110 6:10, 62 6:11, 83 6:12, 114 6:16, 53, 62 6:16-17, 49, 62 6:17, 53 7:1, 99n91 7:2, 83 7:9, 168n110 7:10, 51 7:15, 51 7:17, 51 8:2-3, 83 8:3-6, 53 8:7, 114 8:13, 20n24, 95n7 9, 87, 90, 115 9:1, 83–85

201

9:1-11, 76, 84, 174 9:2, 84 9:3, 83 9:3-6, 86, 89 9:3-11, 84–85 9:7-11, 87 9:8, 100n110 9:10, 87 9:11, 85 9:13-21, 76, 89, 174 9:14, 89–90 9:16-19, 90 9:17, 90, 100n110 9:19, 100n110 10, 41n60, 95n7 10:11, 41n59 11:1-2, 30 11:1-14, 91 11:2, 83 11:3, 83, 92 11:5, 92 11:7, 93, 115 11:9, 92 11:10, 100n111 11:11, 92–93, 132 11:12, 93 11:13, 93 11:18, 49, 51 11:19, 110–11 12, 106, 111, 113, 124, 137n18, 141n72, 154, 165n68 12–13, 76 12:1, 102, 111 12:2, 164n38 12:3, 102, 106–7, 126 12:3-4, 111 12:3-4a, 105 12:3-18, 131 12:4, 43n100, 100n110, 105, 107, 165n68 12:4b, 108 12:5-6, 112, 164n38 12:6, 164n38 12:7-9, 128 12:7-12, 121n94

202

Index of Ancient Sources

12:9, 9, 34, 91, 102, 109, 114, 128 12:10, 111 12:13, 164n38 12:13-17, 165n68 12:14, 83, 113 12:14-15, 91 12:15, 100n110, 113, 164n38 12:16, 113 12:17, 108, 113 12:18, 113 13, 2, 19, 124–27, 138n26 13:1, 115, 127, 136n8, 138n34 13:1-3a, 125 13:1-10, 114, 124, 129, 131 13:2, 114, 125 13:3, 124, 126, 138n34, 139n36, 152–53 13:3-4, 139n39 13:4, 108, 124, 126 13:5, 127 13:7-8, 127 13:8, 63 13:11, 105, 118n41, 129 13:11-18, 114, 124, 128, 130 13:12, 124, 126, 130, 138n34 13:12-17, 130 13:13-14, 117n8 13:13-15, 141n73 13:14, 34, 118n41, 130, 132, 138n34 13:14-15, 83, 131 13:14-17, 131 13:15, 130–31 13:15-17, 130 13:16-17, 127 13:16-18, 132 14, 85 14:1, 58, 63, 127, 168n110 14:8, 143, 146, 165n62 14:8-9, 63 14:9-11, 114 14:10, 51, 85, 90 14:10-11, 49 14:14, 56, 168n110 14:14-16, 64 14:17-20, 45, 64 14:19, 51

15:1, 51, 102 15:2, 136n8 15:7, 51 15:7-8, 81 16, 46 16:1, 49 16:3, 114 16:13, 95n8, 100n110, 132, 140nn53, 57 16:13-14, 119n47 16:14, 117n8 16:17, 53 16:19, 164n35 17, 134, 137n18, 145–47, 149, 153, 156, 158 17–18, 19, 146 17:1, 146–47 17:2, 143, 147–49 17:3, 106, 145 17:3-6, 147 17:4, 106, 145, 147, 149 17:5, 36–37n11, 145, 147–49, 164n38 17:6, 100n110, 106, 143, 149, 152, 164n38 17:8, 126, 153 17:9, 147 17:15-18, 154 17:16, 121n100, 156, 158, 164n38 17:16-18, 156 17:18, 144, 157 18, 144, 154, 160, 166n79 18:2, 95n8, 112, 154–55 18:3, 147 18:4-5, 151 18:4b-5, 155 18:13, 34, 166n79 18:20, 156 19, 63–64 19–21, 49 19:4, 51 19:5, 53 19:9, 157 19:11, 64, 168n110 19:11-15, 63 19:11-16, 58 19:11-21, 54–55, 63, 114 19:12, 63–64

Index of Ancient Sources

19:13, 64 19:14, 63 19:15, 63–64 19:16, 148 19:17, 95n7 19:17-18, 157 19:19-20, 134 19:20, 34, 90, 117n8, 134, 140nn53, 57, 142n96 19:21, 64, 95n7, 134, 142n95, 157–58 20:1, 84, 134 20:1-3, 85, 113–15, 121n94, 134 20:2, 9, 51, 91, 115 20:3, 34 20:7, 134 20:7-10, 113, 121n94 20:8, 34, 115 20:9, 115 20:10, 34, 85, 90, 115, 134–35, 140n57, 142n96 20:11, 54 20:12-15, 54 20:13, 136n8 20:13-15, 135 20:14, 115 20:20, 140n53 21:1, 136n8 21:3, 53 21:4, 51 21:5, 51 21:6, 53 21:9-22:5, 134 21:22, 134 22:8, 28, 90, 115 22:8-9, 153 22:14, 135

2 Maccabees 9:10, 107 PSEUDEPIGRAPHA 2 Baruch 29:3-4, 139n46 1 Enoch 7:5, 165n67 10:4, 90 10:4-8, 85 10:9, 78 10:11-15, 85 15:1-16:1, 78 21:1, 85 21:7, 85 22:1-14, 85 53:3, 98n74 56:1, 98n74 60:7-9, 139n46 62:2, 70n82 98:11, 165n67 4 Ezra 6:49-52, 139n46 11:1-12:3, 168n113 12:3, 168n113 13:10, 92 13:37-38, 92 Jubilees 10:7-11, 78 Testament of Abraham 17:14, 106 19:6-7, 106

DEUTEROCANONICAL Wisdom of Solomon 12:9, 126 15:5-6, 91 Sirach 48:1

Testament of Adam 4:6-7, 83 DEAD SEA SCROLLS 1QM XIII, 10–12, 78

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204

Index of Ancient Sources

4Q405 14–15 I, 2–5, 80 19, 5–8, 80

2.3.2, 90 2.5.2, 108, 137n16, 138n31 2.5.12, 80

HELLENISTIC JEWISH AUTHORS

Hesiod Theogony 319–24, 90 459–67, 108 767–74, 80

Josephus Antiquitates judaicae 3.137, 80 14.259-61, 130 RABBINIC AND TARGUMIC SOURCES

Homer Illiad 6.152-95, 90

Tg. Neb., 83 CLASSICAL SOURCES

Odyssey 12.89, 137n16

Apollodorus Bibliotheca 1.6.3, 107–8

Menander Rhetor Peri epideiktikon 3.17, 107

About the Author

Heather Macumber is an associate professor of biblical studies at Providence University College in Manitoba, Canada. She earned a PhD from St. Michael’s College (Toronto) in Biblical Studies. Her recent publications employ monster theory as a critical lens to analyze Daniel, John’s Apocalypse, and the Dead Sea Scrolls.

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